


(500) Days of Brienne

by ellaria



Series: (500) Days [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Kickboxing, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellaria/pseuds/ellaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne slapped him. Slapped him hard, with all her might behind it. Wait – slapped him? She didn’t think she had it in her to be violent in a feminine way. You would think a girl of her stature and strength would have instinctively punched him. It was a definite sign that she had watched one too many romantic comedies with Sansa last weekend while the redhead moped about Loras being gay (and she brooded about Renly being his boyfriend).</p><p>The Kingsland University kickboxing team gets a new addition and Jaime, the local talent, isn’t all that thrilled. But a journey of almost a year and half will show him that Brienne is not about to go anywhere – and he might not want her to.</p><p>Modern AU set in Westeros. The title and chapter style are based on the movie (500) Days of Summer. Every chapter is a different day in the lives of Jaime and Brienne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 109 - The bus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first ASOIAF fic. The idea popped into my head and then this thing just started writing itself. It’s already finished because the timeline was delicate and I had to check each chapter hundreds of times for consistency. The order is not always chronological and chapter length varies a lot because some days are longer or more important than others. I’ll be posting every two-three days one or more chapters at a time. Chapters posted together are meant to be read together – some of them revolve around a theme, or a specific mood.
> 
> I don’t own anything, GRRM owns everything, and I’m just having some fun with his awesome characters and universe. 
> 
> The use of the term "wench" will be explained early in the story.
> 
> Thanks to Ro Nordmann for the gorgeous official series banner! <3
> 
> By the way, I’m addicted to music, so some chapters will have related songs in case you’re into it. This chapter’s song is Salty Sweet by MS MR. Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

**109**  
(The bus)

Brienne slapped him. Slapped him hard, with all her might behind it. Wait – _slapped_ him? She didn’t think she had it in her to be violent in a feminine way. You would think a girl of her stature and strength would have instinctively _punched_ him. It was a definite sign that she had watched one too many romantic comedies with Sansa last weekend while the redhead moped about Loras being gay (and she brooded about Renly being his boyfriend).

His offended cheek reddened and he turned to look at her. His eyes… she had no idea what it was that she could see in them. Was it anger? Surprise? Both? She wanted to be sorry, she did, but she wasn’t. He had gone one insult too far this time. She congratulated herself for the achievement.

“Are you _kidding_ me? You slapped me!” Jaime howled. Yep, offended. That was what was in his eyes. Wait… offended? What the-

“What the fuck?” She echoed her thoughts, louder than she initially wanted to. The people in the bus turned to look at them with alarmed glances and whispered under their breaths. Both she and Jaime were standing, since they had taken the rush hour bus at one of the most populated stops. Brienne lowered her voice, slightly embarrassed for the public display, but her resolve was firm. “You had it coming!”

Jaime kept his regular voice, anger starting to show on his features. “Honestly, wench, I didn’t think you had it in you. But I should’ve guessed that you’d be a raging maniac after your precious Renly came out of the worst-hidden closet in front of the entire school.” He just _had_ to put salt on that wound. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been Jaime Lannister.

Brienne was really irritated now and she wasn’t about to back down. “You asked me if I wanted to hit you! Well, I did. And now I’ve done it. Are you never going to leave me alone? What is it about teasing me that exhilarates you so much that you can’t stop for five minutes?” It had been so good to wipe that smug grin away from his face for once.

He smiled sideways, in that way that made him so stupidly handsome. And there was the grin again. “You give yourself too much importance for a wench. Next time you want to teach me a lesson, we can take it out on the gym, like grown-ups, instead of you slapping me like some offended pious maid.” He pushed past her, avoiding her gaze. “I’m so _glad_ this is my stop and I’m done looking at you for the day.”

The vehicle slowed down and enough people got off the bus for her to find a seat next to a window. She still had twenty minutes of road ahead before she reached the movie theater where she was meeting Sansa and Margaery.

_That self-righteous asshole_.  She couldn’t wait for his fancy rich-boy Mercedes to get out of the shop so she wouldn’t run into him again. Riding the bus was usually relaxing, looking out the window and thinking of nothing in particular, as opposed to every paper, exam and training session ahead of her. In spite of the satisfaction of actually slapping the guy, she still felt rattled by him and couldn’t understand why. All her life she’d dealt with his kind and even worse, so why did he have the power to bring out this rage in her?


	2. 63 - The opponent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s song is Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet.

**63**  
(The opponent)

After weeks of studying, gallons of coffee, sleepless nights with swollen eyes and countless days fighting his dyslexia to get halfway decent grades, Jaime was allowed back on the kickboxing team by the Kingsland University Council. It wasn’t that his grades had ever been good – he was on a sports scholarship, otherwise he would have never made it into college – but after the _incident_ he was almost kicked out of school and his only chance of staying was to get his grades up, which they assumed would keep him out of trouble.

He was so eager to get back to training that he didn’t think of anything else for days after getting his last required score, an 85% in Ned Stark’s Genetics class, which was uphill for him given the fact that the man despised him and his family after what happened. They had some warped sense of honor, the Starks.

He couldn’t pay attention to his classes that day and he barely even chewed his dinner before heading to the gym at the end of the afternoon.

His usual coach was there, Barristan Selmy, and his teammates as well. Boros Blount and Meryn Trant were both squat, thick men who had problems with authority during matches, earning them more than a few expulsions. Balon Swann was quiet and well behaved, had no problems with anyone and was very constant in his training, hardly ever missing a session. Sandor Clegane, one of the oldest members, was a senior and towered over the rest of them. A huge scar covered the left half of his face, but whatever had caused it must have been quite a well-kept secret, since no one had a clear idea of what happened (and any piece of information spread through the school faster than the wind). Arys Oakheart was the only one who was his same age, weight and height, so he was usually his training partner.

There was only one newcomer since he had left, Loras Tyrell, but he already knew the guy from his social circle, though not directly. As far as Jaime knew he was the next great thing in the sport due to his speed and technique, but one of his problems was apparently his excessive confidence, which made him drop his guard.

Jaime didn’t fail to notice that everyone was paired up, so he might have to wait his turn to spar with someone after warming up. That was annoying. He had accomplished a good training rhythm with Arys, in spite of the fact that the man had a weakness for a dark-haired student from Dorne that made him constantly miss practice, undoubtedly for a different kind of sparring.

“You’re back,” the old man said, glancing at him as he sat to take off his shoes and put on his gloves. Jaime couldn’t help but notice the disappointment in his voice. _This one has judged me guilty_ , he knew. He had a newfound talent to figure out people’s judgmental nature by their tone.

“So I am,” Jaime replied. “I’m ready to get back on the ring. I’m afraid I’m rusty.”

Selmy evaluated him with a quiet stare, his blue eyes colder than he’d ever seen them. “Dean Baratheon told me about the situation. In spite of everything that happened, he said you were to be allowed back on the ring if you could get your average up. I’m guessing you have a letter from him?”

Jaime pulled the letter out of his gym bag indignantly and handed it to him without saying a word. “I see. Then you can resume your training today. This week we’ll focus on getting you back in shape.” He wrote something down on a clipboard on his desk. “Weigh in and warm up, and we’ll get started.”

“All right.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how the whole pairing thing was going to go, seeing as he was the only one left out, but he decided to wait it out. Barristan’s distant tone bothered him deeply. The man had been one of his heroes when he was a fighter, winning countless tournaments and always regarded as an example of honorable sportsmanship. To have him look down on him now, after being the best of his team, after going to nationals to represent Kingsland University, was the last thing he needed.

Once Jaime was done with the warm up, one of the back doors of the gym opened, and he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on. A huge guy walked in, accompanied by a grey-haired man in his sixties. They were talking in hushed voices. He couldn’t see their faces since they had their backs to him; only that he was wearing knee-high blue shorts and a black sweater. He had long straw-colored hair – long for a man, at least – wrapped in a bun at the back of his neck. His shoulders were broad and he looked at least as muscular as himself. They went straight to Barristan, so he guessed maybe he was a new addition to the team, which would come at a good time given that he was alone for now.

Only when he – _she_ – turned, he saw that it was a _girl_ , and quite an ugly girl at that.

To begin with, the girl was taller than him by at least half an inch. Which was saying a lot, since he was pretty tall. Her skin was pale and a collection of freckles plagued her face. Her nose and her teeth were crooked and she had big lips. _Nature wasn’t been very kind to this one_. He felt a grin invade his face. _She was definitely born with the wrong gender_.

She wasn’t looking at him, but studying the ring where Swann and Clegane were sparring. Clegane was almost overpowering Swann, though the latter made up for his lesser strength with speed. Then she kept looking about, as if measuring all the team members. _That’s a funny notion_ , he thought with a smirk. By this point he was curious as to what she was doing here. There was a slight air of familiarity to her, but he couldn’t really figure out where he might have seen her before.

Seconds later, the three of them stopped talking and turned to look at Jaime. “Lannister,” Barristan called him. He approached them, slightly confused.

“This young lady is Brienne Tarth,” Selmy informed him. “And this is her trainer, Coach Goodwin, a good friend of mine from back in the old days. After talking to Goodwin and Dean Stannis we have decided to admit her to the team, in spite of being the first girl, since there is no women’s team to speak of. It will be your responsibility to make her feel welcome on the team. You’ll be her sparring partner.”

The wench looked at him then and he was surprised when he met her eyes. They were big and blue and beautiful… and most of all, utterly out of place in her homely face.

“Is this a joke?” He asked his coach. “As far as I remember I’m the best asset in this team.” His face twisted into a spiteful frown, dropping the smirk that invaded it seconds ago. He couldn’t be serious. Jaime knew he didn’t have the same status as before and he knew his coach had lost respect for him, but this was going too far. “Are you seriously trying to pair me up with some cow of a woman?”

If she was hurt, she gave no sign of it other than a slight frown on her face. Goodwin looked unfazed, and Selmy was the only one who gave him a harsh reply to his comment. “May I remind you, Mr. Lannister, that you are no longer the head of this team?” The man was starting to get on his nerves. “Right now Clegane holds that spot, and the way it’s going, he’ll be the one going to nationals this year. As of last summer you are on probation, if anything. So I would advise you to remember that you are walking a very thin line here.”

Jaime wanted to snap at him, to yell at him and tell him how sick and tired he was of this same old song. He had heard nothing else for weeks and thought he was finally going to be able to focus on something else, on the sweet music that played inside him when he was fighting, when life was reduced to the size of a ring, when all he had to do was follow his instincts, his training, when he could feel like himself and nothing else.

And this _wench_ was going to take that from him?

“I’ll fight you for it, Lannister,” she said. Her voice was confident and devoid of any anger about his previous comment.

“What?” _Could this be so easy as that?_ He crossed his arms on his chest, feeling the grin spread back on his face once more. “Are you saying that if I win, I don’t have to train with you?”

“That’s right.” She didn’t move an inch. She barely blinked. _She’s full of resolve, this one_. That would make it even better. “You’re on.”

–––

She really wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

It wasn’t new for men to take this attitude with her when they were presented with the challenge. Coach Goodwin had prepared her for this for years; ever since the day he started training her. “Men will underestimate you,” he told her. “They will take an aggressive and forceful stance as soon as you start fighting them. They won’t stand to be beaten by a woman, and will try to end it quickly so they won’t be humiliated by their peers. Let them. Use it to your advantage. Take the opportunity to study them and find weak spots. And when you find them, never falter. Never miss the shot.”

Brienne never did miss her shot, even if she had to take as good as she got a few times. She was used to fighting men because the women’s leagues and championships were only starting to catch on in Westeros, and barely any women ever stood to meet her because of her stature and sheer size.

It wasn’t just his insults that bothered her – she had come to take them with a certain dignity. It was the fact that this was _Jaime Lannister_ insulting her. The guy had so much trouble for the incident two months ago that she didn’t even know how he was still enrolled in school. Wait, she _did_ know, he was still there because he was Tywin Lannister’s son. Rules didn’t apply to them as far as the world was concerned.

His stupid smirk would get the best of her if she kept looking at it, so she looked away. Being calm was a key to her success.

Coach Selmy set the rules. The man’s voice as was firm and solemn as the rest of him. “Thai boxing, three minute rounds, up to five rounds. Knockout is five seconds. Get ready.”

She stretched for a last time on her corner before the bell rang, and the fight began.

–––

Jaime studied her eyes. _Stunning eyes_. He was startled by what he saw in them. They were completely calm, a quality he was good at recognizing in fighters. It was calm fighters you had to both respect and watch out for – they were the ones who used technique instead of brute force, which was easier to handle.

The wench was being cautious; so far all they’d done was circle each other. Apparently she wasn’t going to make the first move, so it fell on him to start. Fine by him, he wasn’t about to be humiliated by this cow.

He went for a cross, which was a risky move to begin with, but she evaded it easily enough. He picked up speed and tried a series of jabs with both his arms, then all of the woman’s energy when into parrying them and keeping a safe distance, while he played the offense. Seconds later he went for something stronger and threw a few hooks at her, which finally made her start falling back as he pressed. _Fine_ , he thought, _if she’s gonna keep this up, I’ll wear her out and then go for the winning shot_.

Between parries and circling the first round flew by. During the second round the woman changed strategies – she started taking chances after deflecting his punches, throwing a few jabs here and there, but nothing too impressive. Jaime thought it was the right time to start trying kicks, giving her more to defend against and thus giving him a better chance of creating an opening. Before the round finished, he had managed to land a cross and a side-kick to her shoulder, which sent her backward slightly. She was too tall and muscular. _I have to press harder_.

During the third round he was starting to breathe more heavily. He had been putting a lot of effort in his hooks, which were his strongest move, but she didn’t seem to be wearing down. He was _tired_.

Jaime would be forced to change his approach soon. Two months without training had made him drop a few pounds of muscle and it was showing. It couldn’t be that this sad excuse for a female was starting to get the best of him.

He took too long with his mental ramblings and barely had time to block a right hook. She saw an opening from his second of distraction and aimed for a roundhouse kick. _When did she even prepare? She’s too damn fast for her weight_.

He couldn’t block the kick and it sent him stumbling to his knees. Instead of giving him a chance to get back up, she lunged to go for a left hook, but he parried it, pushed her and rolled away, then came back to his feet. He was panting heavily and his parries and attacks were nowhere near as fast as before.

_The bitch is stronger than me._

It dawned on him a second too late. Before he knew what was happening, she pushed him with a knee kick to the chest, and during the time he focused in regaining his balance, she bestowed the hardest jab of his life right on his cheek. What felt like a second later he was lying on his back, flat on the floor, and the bell was going off.

“Five!” Barristan yelled. Apparently Jaime had missed all the other numbers. The bell rang and he was sure this moment took the cake for the most embarrassing of his life.


	3. 1 - One

**1**  
(One)

It was the beginning of July. He felt so tired that his eyelids were closing on their own. The day was hot and the birds were singing and the air was thick with humidity. There wasn’t the slightest breeze, and this man was going on and on about Machiavelli’s whatever. Professor Baelish’s class was the hardest for him, since he had little to no interest in History of Politics. He wouldn’t have even taken it if he hadn’t run out of spots in other classes by sleeping late on sign-up day. Now he had to suffer for it.

As he dozed off he heard a low giggle a few seats to his right. It felt strange to hear something other than Baelish’s voice after a while, so he turned his head to look at the source. He found Sansa Stark covering her mouth with her hand and blushing, embarrassed at the sound, even though Baelish hadn’t noticed – it was a big classroom and they were in the last rows. Sansa was sitting next to some blonde girl, whom he guessed had said whatever made her laugh. The redhead whispered something back at her, and the blonde nodded and sat straight, turning her attention back to the lesson.

Jaime dozed off again, wondering how this girl was so tall. _Girl_ seemed like the wrong term for how big she was, but so was _woman_ , since she looked to be around Sansa’s age – twenty maybe.

“The term ‘wench’ was used…” he heard in Baelish’s rambling.

 _Wench. Yes… that’s about right…_ Then he fell completely asleep with his head on his arms and forgot everything about it.


	4. 130 - Tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t thank everyone enough for their support with comments and kudos, especially considering it’s my first story. :) This is one of my favorite chapters! The song for this one is Kiss with a Fist by Florence + the Machine. Many of their songs will come up because I’m pathologically obsessed with Lungs right now. Enjoy!

**130**  
(Tequila)

“He’s not going to be there”, Sansa assured her, as she applied her make-up from what seemed to be the biggest case of it in the city. “I promise!” The girl’s dresser would have looked perfectly normal in a showgirl’s room backstage, considering how many beauty products and trinkets she owned.

Brienne sighed exasperatedly. “How could you possibly be sure? I have no energy to deal with him, I swear. I just want to curl up in my bed and read a good book and go to bed at a reasonable time!” She had a strong resolve, but she knew she was starting to lose this particular match with her roommate. Sansa was relentless once an idea got into her head.

“That’s not what college is for!” Sansa masterfully applied the eyeliner while looking in the mirror, and apparently also looking at Brienne. She had a degree on these girly rituals and she was on automatic mode by now. “Margaery said Jaime wasn’t going. She said he had some sort of plan with Tyrion and his dad tonight. She knows ‘cause her father had some business dinner with Mr. Lannister yesterday. Plus Megga told Alla she heard Tyrion talking on the phone about it in the hallway. It’s a slam dunk!”

Brienne fell back on Sansa’s bed, defeated. “But I haven’t sleep all week from studying. And I got a run tomorrow morning. And –”

Sansa turned and looked at her with a possessed stare. Fire could have easily come out of her eyes and engulfed Brienne. “Sleep when you’re dead, grandma!”

She knew the match was over. Brienne zero, Sansa one (thousand). She covered her head with the nearest pillow. “What am I even going to wear?”

–––

The party was at a freshman’s house whose parents were out of town. Brienne had no idea who he was, she only knew he was friends with Margaery’s cousins, and was pretty sure she wasn’t going to know anyone there. Sansa drove all the way in her New Beetle with some techno music in the background (her car, her music). When they arrived, they saw the house was big, though nothing fancy. The street was full of parked cars.

When Brienne walked in she was glad to see the foreign student, Daenerys Targaryen, among the crowd. She was one of the very few people at school who were genuinely nice to her, and her partner in the last projects of her Women’s Studies class taught by Lysa Arryn. The woman was “batshit crazy” according to Margaery (and she agreed, though not in such colorful terms), but neither Brienne nor Dany had known that when they’d signed up, so they just had to soldier through it for the rest of the semester.

Daenerys looked as beautiful as always, with her long silver hair down and a purple knee-high dress. It matched her eyes perfectly. She smiled at Brienne when she spotted her across the room and shook the drink in her hand, motioning for Brienne to get one. Brienne knew she would not live it down if she didn’t have at least one drink, so she grabbed some punch before approaching her. She was sitting on a garden chair in a small terrace next to the living room, which was crammed with a group of sophomores playing a drinking game.

“See? You’re getting better at this!” Dany winked. “I can’t believe you’re here. Who must I applaud for this accomplishment?” Then she noticed Sansa, who was standing behind Brienne, distracted by some conversation with a passing girl.

“Ah, Sansa!” Dany exclaimed. “That explains it.”  They said their hellos and Sansa moved on to hang out with some of her other acquaintances. The girl had a natural talent to make new friends, she always knew what to say and when to say it, how to curl her hair timidly to a boy she liked or how to intimidate a girl who was nasty to Brienne.

The party wasn’t as bad as she would have thought, all things considered. If she had gone alone she would have been looking at every laughing group all night long, wondering if it was her they were laughing at. Looking at the guys who noticed her, asking herself if maybe they would think of some new prank tonight. Staring at her watch and wanting time to hurry up so she could go home. But Daenerys had gone to the party alone, so they hung out together and Brienne listened to her anecdotes.

The girl’s stories were amazing, since she’d basically seen the whole world. Almost her entire family had died in an accident, so all that was left to her was her brother Viserys, but after years of foster families and moving every year to a different city in the Narrow Sea, he’d grown bitter and verbally abused her often. He became angrier and more alienated, getting his hands on every drug he could find, until she’d found him overdosed in a motel a couple of years ago.

As if that weren’t enough, Daenerys’ boyfriend had given him the line that killed him. The relationship had gotten serious ever since she got pregnant, but it came tumbling down after that. Only months apart she lost her brother, had a miscarriage, and her boyfriend left her saying he was a “wild spirit”. She had just turned eighteen and gotten out of the system, so she decided to go to Kingsland looking for a new life.

After claiming an inheritance from a distant family member called Aerys who recently died, she put the money to good use and enrolled herself in Kingsland University. Even after everything Daenerys was wise beyond her years and one of the few people who never judged Brienne for her looks. She felt she was easy to talk to, so the hours passed by and she didn’t even notice.

Dany was teaching her a few words in High Valyrian, the language of the Free Cities, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was some e-mail selling something or other, but she caught the time. 1 AM. By Sansa’s standards, that was the quota Brienne had to meet of socializing at parties. Now she could go home and sleep and then wake up to an invigorating run around campus and a nice Saturday afternoon. She said goodbye to Daenerys and decided to go to the bathroom before calling a cab. Sansa would probably stay out until dawn; when Margaery arrived later they’d go club hopping.

Once she left the bathroom, she passed by Daenerys talking to Tyrion in the hallway, laughing at something he said. She kept walking and making lists in her head, remembering that she needed to buy soap, shampoo, lotion… _What?_ Tyrion was here. That was a very, very bad sign.

She stopped on her tracks with a sudden feeling of panic and dread and nervousness, all at the same time. Her hands started sweating. Her mind went blank. If he found her here, he would make some snide remark and tease her and then he wouldn’t let her leave because he’d be having too much fun. She had no energy for _him_ right now. She froze while she decided how to get out without being seen.

She chose the back door, thinking the kitchen deserted. But of course it wasn’t.

–––

Jaime was fuming when he got to the party. He didn’t even want to come, but Tyrion said it would help him take his mind off things or he could drink his problems away. Jaime was already going for the latter by filling his cup with some tequila he’d found in one of the cupboards. Fuck whomever. (He didn’t even know whose house this was). He turned when he heard a noise and some strained breathing, wondering if he’d been caught red-handed even with the lights off. The figure in the dark was far too tall to be anyone else.

“Why, if it isn’t my very favorite wench!” He raised his cup high in the air. “And I thought this was going to be a dull party!”

As she walked closer, he caught a sight of her in the moonlight. She was wearing simple dark blue jeans and a blue light wool sweater. Brienne looked as awkward as ever, wearing a pair of brown leather flats instead of her usual sports or converse shoes (Sansa’s idea, surely). On the right side of her hair there was a tiny braid like the foreign Targaryen girl usually wore. She had her purse in her hand and clutched it tightly, like she was ready to make a run for it. The girl’s expression was memorable, like a deer caught in the headlights. She was shocked to see him and was left speechless for once, apparently. 

“Leaving already? But the fun’s just starting!”

“I won’t have any of your jokes tonight, Lannister.” Her voice was firm and contained. No emotion there. This was the wrong night for no emotions. His empty stomach and the shot of pure tequila he had just drunk hit him quickly, like a brick. His mood wasn’t improving anytime soon, and he felt an overwhelming need to let out his anger at the world, at just anyone.

“Oh, are you going to slap me again? Or scratch me with your nails like a fierce little damsel?” He stood in front of the back door, blocking her exit. Once more he drank deep.

“Not this again.” She sighed. “Just let me go, okay? I’m so tired of fighting with you.”

“I’m so sorry, the wench is far too important to exchange words with Jaime Lannister, the big bad wolf, the sad rich boy, the big family disappointment!” He noticed his cup was empty. When did he drink the tequila? Never mind. He refilled it. “Bottoms up for every time I’ve been called a murderer, a liar or an asshole!” Another cup was gone in a second.

Then he looked at her, at the one part of her that was beautiful, her eyes. The blue of them was barely visible in the darkness, but what he did see there made him furious. It was pity. It turned his stomach – or maybe the tequila did. He felt the rage rise back up, consuming him.

“You think you have the right to look down on me?!” He yelled, not caring who heard. “You?!” His anger flashed across his face like lightning. “If you want to leave, then you fight me. You remove me from this door if you’re so damn tough!”

She took a deep breath, as if she was doing everything in her power to get a hold of herself. _Good_. He was starting to get to her. She didn’t seem worried about the noise. His head spun for a second from the alcohol, but when he came back to his senses he noticed the music in the living room was so loud that it was impossible for anyone to hear them.

“Please move,” was all she said. But she was starting to sound angry. _Almost there_.

“You want me to move, you make me, wench. Or are you afraid of me? I mean, you’re clearly scared of anything with a cock. Anything _not gay_ , anyway. How did you feel when you found your precious Renly had a taste for the guys? I mean, anyone would turn gay after hanging out with you too lo–”

She punched him. She had dropped her purse in the motion, and now she was starting to get really irritated, but she still did nothing else after the punch. She just stood there, unflinching. He wiped the drop of blood running down his nose with the back of his right hand, smirking. He nearly had her.

“Ah, the wench has feelings! You were so clearly in love with him. Is it because he treated you well?” He walked a step closer to her. She kept her ground.

“Let me tell you a little secret…” he approached her until there was barely any distance between them. He could feel the heat radiating from her cheek when his lips moved toward her ear. “Loras told me Renly laughed at you with him. Just like everyone else. He was only nice to you because he felt pity. But he called you a _freak_.”

He thought he saw a tear flash right before she pushed him down to the floor, but then he blinked and there was nothing. Jaime smiled to himself with a sense of accomplishment. He got back on his feet in one swift motion and knocked her to the floor. She tried to punch him, but he blocked her, holding down her right hand. She closed her legs around his torso and turned him around with a firm grip. The damn woman had freakishly strong legs.

“Take that back!” She yelled at him.

He was having trouble keeping a hold on her hand. She used her free forearm to trap his neck against the floor, so he could barely get any air in. He hadn’t felt this exhilarated in months. He kneed her in the stomach to get her off him, and let go of her arm. They stood apart again. When they stood up Jaime’s back was to the kitchen counter, which was a disadvantage for him. She wasn’t charging yet, but waiting for him to make a move, like she always did. So he took the offensive and rained punches down on her, and she blocked each and every one. She went for a jab and he parried it with ease, but then he tried an uppercut and as she dodged, she managed to punch him on the side and have enough time for a low kick to his hip. The alcohol hit him (or she did) and he fell to his knees.

A concerned expression started to show on her features right as he regained his focus. He used the impulse of getting up to knock her back, further and further, until her back hit the wall next to the hallway. The wench tried to push him away pressing her knee to his stomach, to no avail. He managed to grab her by the waist in an effort to get her back down to the floor and lock her in a grip, but she was pushing her arms against his shoulders. She pushed him back far enough to slide away from the wall, only to be pushed right back a little more to the left. She hit some old wall phone with her shoulder and groaned in pain. The handset fell and was only kept hanging by its cord, but if anything, she was angrier.

The distraction cost Jaime dearly; she used the opportunity to push him away with her foot on his thigh. The girl drove him back and he stumbled on a wooden stool, falling and breaking it in the process. His head spun. With a glimpse of the moonlight he saw she was covered in sweat and her shoulder was bleeding. He tasted sweat and blood on his lip, so he was bleeding as well, but he didn’t even feel it. _I want more, more, more…_

She jumped on him in a fit of rage. He felt euphoric watching her like this, like he owned something no one else ever could. He felt mighty and powerful for being the cause, to the point where his rage melted away and he was overcome with the purest form of joy.

She straddled him and locked his arms and neck in a firm grip, gritting her teeth and grunting like a madwoman, gasping for air from the effort. A drop of sweat ran down her nose and fell on his forehead. For some godforsaken reason it made him stir in a very inappropriate place. He felt like his face was on fire from the heat and effort and alcohol.

–––

_Stupid, insufferable excuse for a man, for a human being! Insensitive, thoughtless, reckless, arrogant asshole_ … She tightened her grip as hard as she could, though she knew she had little left in her anymore. He was too damn strong. He could _fight_.

He could give her a challenge and match her strike by strike. When she fought him she became the punches and the kicks and the flow of the battle. It was all slow motion and he was at the center of it. Just seconds ago she could feel the air around him and smell his sweat and the tequila on his warm breath and see his blond perfect hair flying…

She blinked and came back to the present. She could barely think. Her grip was so tight she could feel his heartbeats on her arm and for a moment wanted to feel nothing else, forever. Just stay frozen here. She looked into his eyes as if time wasn’t moving. They were close enough to the window to see each other on the moonlight. His green eyes were pools and she was sinking and she couldn’t breathe…

She let go of her arms and sat up, still straddling him. Then she realized she was _straddling_ him and moved away as fast as her legs could take her, sitting on the floor. She was panting from the effort, and so was he. He was so amused – she couldn’t understand. Then he started laughing, so naturally, not in a mocking tone. Laughing everything away. He winced a little as he laughed harder, apparently from some pain on his abdomen. Had she been too rough? He hadn’t been soft, either, her shoulder was aching and she noticed she was bleeding.

All she did was try to catch her breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. Then he smiled at her and it was like the world faded. How could she be so angry and then feel like this?

Jaime sat up and looked in her eyes. It made her feel naked. She couldn’t remember what they were fighting about, but she knew he’d said something hurtful – more so than usual. _Renly. Yes. That was it_. She looked away. He wiped away some blood from the side of her face with the sleeve of his shirt, and she felt it was the most intimate contact of her life. _How ludicrous_.

He got to his feet and helped her up. They sat on a couple of stools on the other side of the kitchen counter. Neither one of them knew what to say after what they had just done, but since Jaime had been the last to speak, she figured she had to say something.

“What’s going on with you?” _Was that too personal?_

“My father”, he said without hesitating. Maybe the alcohol had loosened his tongue. “He wants me to quit kickboxing and ‘get serious’ with school. He wants to push me to run the company.” He looked nothing like he had five minutes ago. The laughter and relief were gone from him. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have brought it up.

Lannister & Co. was the biggest corporation in Westeros. The phrase ‘rich as a Lannister’ was commonly heard in the country. It went back generation after generation, so she imagined both of Tywin Lannister’s sons were prepared to run it in the future.

“Is that new?” She didn’t know what else to say.

He looked down. “Tyrion was supposed to be the one to run it one day, but my father doesn’t think he’s good enough. No one is good enough for him. But I won’t quit. This is what I was born to do. Fighting is my life.”

He seemed startled by what he was saying, and whom he was saying it to. But at the same time he looked relieved, like the words had been eating him up inside. “You think I’m just a dishonorable fool, don’t you?”

She said nothing, weighing her words. Brienne wasn’t sure how drunk he was exactly, it seemed like it had been burned away in the fight. Adrenaline did that to you. “I think you’ve done awful things. I think you get a break that no one else does because you’re a Lannister. And most of all, I think you’re an asshole to me.”

–––

_Well. That’s honest._

Jaime smiled sadly. He was tired. He knew she was right, he hadn’t cut her any slack since he’d met her and he wasn’t even sure why. She was certainly easy to tease since there were too many reasons: her ugliness, her dressing like a man, her stupid stubbornness. How tall and awkward she was, her broad shoulders.

Then he thought of her eyes, a foreign element in the rest of her face, pure, blue unflinching eyes. He thought of her strength and her resolve. He thought of the day she shared her protein bar with him in silence at the gym after he had some stupid argument with Barristan about going to nationals. _She’s kind_.

“You’re right about the latter,” he said simply. “But about me and my choices, that’s a story for another day, wench.”

She stared into his eyes without the usual shyness and firmly stated, “My name is Brienne. Not wench, not cow, not woman. Brienne.”

He realized he had a cut above his eye when a small drop of blood ran down his eyebrow. She grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped his wound clean. _She’s gentle_ , he thought. _Gentler than_ …

Once she was done cleaning his eyebrow, she stood up, dusted off her jeans and picked up her purse, forgotten in some corner. She stared at her phone, apparently looking at the time.

“I better be going,” she said, approaching the door. “I hope things get better with your dad.”

Jaime picked up the tequila bottle from the counter and laughed softly, “You’re leaving me with this mess?”

The broken stool was in the middle of the kitchen and the phone was still hanging off its cord on the wall. There were a few drops of blood stuck to it, from the place where Brienne cut her shoulder. They had also knocked over a bottle of punch on the table at some point, and it was pooling on the floor.

Brienne shrugged. “You take care of it. We’ll call it even.”

She left then, without saying another word. But before she left, he was almost sure he glimpsed a playful smile on her face in the moonlight. She looked almost beautiful.


	5. 94 - The lurker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Once more thanks so much to everyone who’s following this story and giving it their support. Double chapter today! More to come really soon. ;)

**94**  
(The lurker)

Jaime caught her training at the gym late one night, kicking a sandbag without realizing he was watching her. When she thought the gym deserted, she got into more comfortable clothes instead of her usual long training pants and sweaters, replacing them with sports bras and shorts. He never saw anyone so passionate and focused at any activity as he did then. She used two bags simultaneously, kicking and punching and dodging with ease.

He studied her muscles, watching the way they moved to prepare for a punch or a kick, then the way they unfolded with full strength. Her legs were thick and powerful, and the muscles in her arms could give him a run for his money. This was also the first time he saw her without a sweater or a shirt. She was as flat chested as a thirteen-year-old boy. Even though she had a thick torso, it was impressive watching her abs standing out from the effort of the kicks. Her coordination and speed were absolute, as if she was dancing to a tune that only she could hear.

It was a good opportunity to mess with her; he knew she’d be mortified if she found out there was someone there with her. Plus she would likely walk away and he would get to keep the gym to himself. But somehow he just stood there, at the entrance, holding his gym bag in his hand. When he woke up from whatever daze he was in, he walked away, closing the door softly behind him. He’d let her have tonight. _Just tonight, wench_.


	6. 313 - The grip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a jump to the future! The song for this chapter is the delicious Head is Not My Home by MS MR. Oh and the kittens are a reference to a certain CollegeHumor video where coincidentally Zooey Deschanel is Daenerys. ;)

**313**  
(The grip)

 

Jaime had to do one hell of a job to make it up to Brienne after what happened with the train. After cracking his brain for four days, wondering what might possibly make her hear him out, he only had one answer.

"Fight me," he wrote her in a text message.

He lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, wondering if he could even come up with a plan B if this didn't work out. It _had_ to work out. He guessed there was no better way for her to blow off steam than a few punches, though he hoped she wouldn't kick him in the balls like Tyrion had suggested she should.

He waited the longest ten minutes of his life for her reply. Had she taken her sweet time to figure it out? Or was she busy and didn't hear her cell phone? Maybe she was getting out of the shower. Well, he'd better not go down _that_ road, or he'd start thinking about the thing in the sauna.

The green light of his cell phone blinked, as if to remind him that he had to face whatever answer she flung at him. He gathered the courage and read the message.

"Gym. One hour. Be late and be gelded."

What was it with people threatening his balls?

He rushed to his closet to pack up his gym bag, wondering where in the world he left his kickboxing gloves. He'd leave in five minutes with or without them. Never _ever_ again would he be late for any kind of plan with Brienne.

–––

Dany's chest swelled with pride when Brienne caught her red-handed with her phone, lying down on her bed. The silver-haired girl’s eyes were shining mischievously. Her three kittens were crawling over her. (“ _I couldn’t possibly leave them home alone! They’re too little!”_ ).

"What did you do?!" She exclaimed.

She looked at Sansa, who was looking half guilty and half satisfied, playing with her auburn hair and looking at the ceiling.

"If you look back, you're lost!" The silver haired girl replied. "There's no better way for you to move on than by giving him a run for his money." The black kitten perched on her shoulder meowed his agreement.

Brienne read the message. Jaime's text would have had her twisting and turning for an hour, wondering what to say. Though the reply was slightly more aggressive than anything she would have said, she couldn't deny that she found it more than acceptable.

Initially she thought the best thing to do was stop seeing him altogether, even if it meant a lot of shuffling around corridors to avoid him. But this idea wasn't half bad. At least she could get a good fight and maybe some sense of closure.

Seeing Brienne's expression of resolve, Sansa grinned maliciously and handed her the gym bag, with all her things already inside. She had to admit her friends had made an immense effort to stand by her – and occasionally get her drunk – since things had taken a turn for the worse.

The blonde girl grabbed the bag and walked out of her and Sansa's dorm room, leaving the girls to continue listening to a new album and gossiping about a guy Dany liked, some blue-haired rocker with a questionable background. Sansa was her number one supporter, given that she had a pathological thing for dangerous guys.

–––

The gym was deserted, as he expected. It closed at 9 PM, but he still had a spare key from last year, when he trained after hours to prepare for nationals.

He turned on the central light, directly above the ring. It was the first time he arrived anywhere before Brienne. She received her own spare key when she joined the team. Barristan was quite impressed with her abilities and thought she should have some privileges, given that she was a woman. He knew that she might want to train by herself after hours to have some privacy.

Jaime changed into his dark red and gold shorts, put on his gloves and warmed up. He had been hitting the sandbag for ten minutes when she arrived.

Brienne was already dressed; she didn't like to use the lockers. (He suspected it had something to do with the sauna thing). Her expression was ice cold, but her eyes were on fire with rage. She placed her bag on one of the benches without saying a word.

She wore her camouflage shorts and a black sports bra. After so many weeks of knowing each other and developing their friendship, she'd started wearing the tops as a habit, not feeling embarrassed anymore. They were more comfortable anyway. "If men can spar shirtless, I'm entitled to do it in a top," she had stated matter-of-factly once, while they had some ice cream in his favorite parlor.

"I'm glad you came."

She shrugged.

"I have a proposal for you."

She didn't seem too excited about it. "I'm not sure you're in the right position for it."

She approached the ring to stretch and from her sweat he guessed she'd warmed up before coming in. He knew her. Brienne was eager to fight him, but she wanted to keep their interactions outside the ring as brief as possible.

This is what she was like before, when they'd first started training together. She brought her iPod and buried herself in her music while doing her lunges and push-ups, paying no attention to the other fighters. Only when sparring, or when talking to Selmy, did she take them off.

Slowly and progressively they'd managed to get into each other’s territory. One day she asked for his help on the bench press, since she wanted to increase the weight safely, and Selmy was busy. So he became her spotter and she returned the favor.

On a different occasion he asked her what she'd written down in question four of their latest exam in Qyburn's Sports Medicine class. They discussed it for a while as they helped each other with crunches and stretching.

Months and months of effort went into bringing them to a middle ground that they were both comfortable with, and he wasn't about to let his screw-up take it all away.

"If I win," he told her, "you forgive me. If I lose, I won't bother you anymore. On my word as a fighter."

Brienne shifted her eyes, suspecting some sort of foul play. She considered it and offered her hand in a shake. "You got yourself a deal."

–––

They were already on their third round. Both of them looked exhausted. The right side of Jaime's face had taken such a hard hook that it was already starting to swell, but Brienne was even worse off. The girl was limping on her right leg, after he'd managed to knock her down on the first round with a masterful sidekick. His extra hours on the sandbag had paid off and he had managed to catch her off guard.

They were both covered in sweat and red-faced. He was panting from the effort, but her breathing was strained as well. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to lose this fight.

Their energy peak reached them; that perfect point where the adrenaline overcame them, where their muscles got as warm as they were like to get, and pain was blocked out. Motion sped up and then the movements were too quick to think of anything, everything became instinct and reaction.

Two crosses from the girl, Jaime blocked and went for a high to mid kick combo. She evaded the former by passing underneath it, but took the latter on her right hip. Once recovered, she landed a kick to the back of his knee, making him drop it slightly, but he responded with his elbow on her chest. Two hooks from her, a roundhouse kick from him. She jumped back and went right for a jab on his torso. He kicked her legs out from under her and as he approached to finish her, she rolled away and got to her feet in one motion.

Brienne tried an uppercut and then another jab, but he blocked both and seized the opportunity for a jab and grab, holding both her arms in a firm grip with his own. He tightened his hold as much as possible, bracing himself to apply his entire strength to keep her in that position, neutralizing her attacks.

She took a step back, bringing him back with her, but stopped when she realized she had reached the ropes. He knew her next step would be calming herself and using technique instead of brute force. _Shit, we know each other too well._ When was the last time he had shared something so deep with anyone?

His face was buried in her neck as he tightened his hold. He could smell her flowery shampoo even through the sweat that soaked both of them. The skin on her shoulder rubbed against his neck in the motion. It was so soft he wondered what it would be like to touch it or run his lips over it. _Tyrion is right. This whole thing about being friends has been bullshit since who knows how long ago_.

"Yield!" He roared at her. "There’s no getting out of this."

She kneed him in the stomach for a reply. It had little impact behind it; she was aiming at keeping her leg there to push him away by conserving a steady shove. Just like he was doing by holding her with the grip.

Jaime’s strength was starting to falter. But he couldn't – _wouldn't_ – lose. They would be stuck here for hours if he didn't try something different. She was too pig-headed to admit defeat at a time like this.

He lifted his head slightly, moving his lips close to her ear. "Brienne," he whispered. "I'm not letting go. I promise."

He felt her knee drop the pressure. Brienne’s heart was beating so fast he could feel it assaulting his chest. He softened his grip slightly, to test her. She didn't try to push him off.

He moved his head, still with his arms encircling both of hers. His cheek rubbed against hers. He was impossibly close to her and the adrenaline from the fight was dulling his senses. He felt like his ears were ringing. Brienne was blushing furiously, but he couldn't tell if it was from the effort or something else.

Jaime looked in her eyes and saw his own reflection. Her gaze softened even as she kept her frown, like she couldn't help it. He wanted to drown in that blue sea, so he did.

He kissed her.

Her mouth tensed up immediately – she was clearly not expecting it. But she didn't break the kiss, either. Her lips were fleshy and her breath was warm. There was a faint taste of sweat to them, his and hers, from their upper lips. This was the world, for a moment. There were no Lannisters, no expectations, no pressures, no demands or manipulations.

It felt just right.

He broke the kiss for a second, wanting her to catch up with what was happening. She paused to look at him, wanting to read some answer written in his eyes. Whatever she was searching for, she found, because she shyly closed the distance between their lips.

He kept the kisses soft and innocent for as long as he could, but he wanted more. He realized he had wanted this for a long time. He remembered their fight the day he was drinking tequila – they barely got along then, but he still felt something stir inside him when they fought. A passion, a release. It felt like riding a rollercoaster. Like he could see her eye to eye, fighter to fighter, unlike anyone else in his life.

Jaime had dreamed of her that night, but this was no dream.

He put his arms around her waist and held her close. His chaste kisses were forgotten when he ran the tip of his tongue over her lower lip and she opened her mouth for him. He felt exhilarated, knowing that no one had done this with her before. It was only his.

His tongue melted into hers and he was almost sure he even heard her moan softly. At some point she had put her arms around his neck and stroked his hair as she lost herself in the kiss.

When they broke, the world seemed like a different place. Brienne was still blushing, an unmistakable sign of her innocence. Jaime knew he had grown hard as the kiss intensified, but he'd made an effort to move his hips the right way to conceal it.

And then, a second later, the moment was over.

Brienne stared at him as if she'd fell out of some spell cast on her. She softly pushed him off her and looked away.

"I don't get it," she said. "I don't get _you_. I trusted you. I didn't even ask you for anything, you offered. And four days ago you betrayed that trust. For _her_."

The girl brushed the hair out of her face with her hand. She looked overwhelmed all of a sudden, walking away towards the bench. He just stood there, not quite sure of what was happening or what he should say. Her tone had become irritated as she put on her shoes hurriedly. He didn't fail to notice that she had put on a sweater, even though she was as drenched in sweat as him.

"I meant what I just did." It was the one thing he needed her to know. "It's what I want. And I know you want it too, Brienne. We've avoided it for weeks without even knowing it. It feels right."

"I don't even know if I can trust you anymore…" She stood from the bench, ready to go. "I... I don't..." She sighed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'm confused and tired. I... need to think things through."

Jaime watched her leave without saying anything else. He finally let himself be guided by his instinct, but it seemed he had picked a very bad time to act on his feelings. He hadn't even stopped to consider that Coach Goodwin's death was too recent and had probably chafed her raw.

He didn't feel sorry for kissing her, though. The wench, the tallest and ugliest girl he'd ever met. She had come into his life and turned the tables completely around.

All he could do now was give her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an added thing, I had to watch a looot of videos to educate myself a bit about kickboxing (which has so many different styles, sigh). I wanted to share this choreography by a stunt team to give an idea about the speed, rhythm and movements involved. I though it was an interesting example to illustrate this chapter. :) The seconds of interest are 0:30 - 0:59. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SCToNJ0INo


	7. 152 - Blackwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some geographic liberties here, making Blackwater Bay an apt place for a beach party, all in good fun - can’t waste that sunny weather! Two songs for this chapter: Is This Love by Bob Marley and Hurricane Drunk by Florence + The Machine. Have fun! ;)

**152**  
(Blackwater)

 

The sun was shining down on Brienne that day like no other. She smiled, enjoying the warm sunlight, the salty smell of the sea and the feeling of soft sand between her toes. The sky was completely clear and there was only a slight, warm wind in Blackwater Bay.

She wore a one-piece teal swimsuit with a pair of white shorts and a beach hat to protect her pale skin from the worst of the midday sun, as well as sunglasses. She might never be a beautiful girl, but today she was at her most fashionable. She had barely received any looks of attention over her height, her muscular body or her homely features, which was an entire triumph of its own.

The fashion thing obviously had involved Sansa and Margaery the previous day. They hadn’t let her fantastic mood go to waste and made the most of it by taking her shopping with them. She was so happy she accepted whatever they said without a fight, and that’s how she had ended up wearing glasses and hats “like a proper lady”, to hear Sansa tell it.

She was already done with four out of her five classes, having received almost full grades on all of them. She only had her Women’s Studies class left for two more weeks, which she enjoyed because she got to hang out with Dany. Barristan had notified her that he had seen fit to submit her name for the female nationals, representing Kingsland University, to be held in mid-August the next year.

And to top it all off, her plane ticket to Tarth had arrived early that morning. She was thrilled to go back home to see her father during the end of the year break. Every single one of her worries was buried under deep piles of warm sand and fresh seawater.

Margaery sipped her daiquiri beside her. She wore a tiny green bikini that showed off her feminine, slight figure, getting constant looks from the men who passed by. She waved at the latest pair of guys a few feet from them, thanking them for the drink (her fourth since they’d arrived). Sansa was reading the latest fashion magazine, lying face down on her beach towel. Brienne didn’t fail to notice Jaime’s cousin Cersei modeling in some of the pictures, the epitome of womanly perfection.

“So yeah, the guy says,” Margaery continued her story, “‘you should give me your number’. Right after the blonde had turned him down. The nerve of him! I laughed at his face and told him to get lost. Who picks someone up like that? Ugh, it’s like they’re all airheads!”

“Not all of them!” Sansa interjected. Both Brienne and Margaery studied her curiously. “Well, it’s true. I mean… some of them are different.”

Margaery laughed. “I forgot you like them damaged and scarred.” She winked. “In more ways than one.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sansa snapped, “That stuff’s all in your head.”

“Suuure. You’ve been visiting Brienne at the gym more often because you’ve developed an interest in her, then? Not a very tall, bad-mannered fellow who just happens to train there?”

Sansa shook her head and dipped her nose back into her magazine with slightly flushed cheeks. Brienne was surprised. Apparently she needed flight attendant signals to pick up these subtleties.

“She’s into Sandor Clegane?” she asked the brunette. “But he’s so… rough. Is this some new Sansa? I thought you were all about fairy tales and prince charming.”

“I’m not into him!” Sansa said finally. She apparently understood that the only way to kill this topic was to change the subject. “Look at these pictures. The Lannister’s parties are so amazing. I’d kill to go to one.”

She showed them the Society section of the magazine. In some of the pictures there was an older man who looked utterly imposing. Tywin Lannister, no doubt. The party was in a huge ballroom where her entire house probably fit, and the red-and-gold decoration was impeccable. Everyone was wearing fancy suits and designer dresses. Jaime was standing next to his cousin and his brother Tyrion in one of the pictures. He was clean-shaven, his hair was well combed and his suit was impeccable. He wore a red tie and was smiling. No matter how much they bickered, she couldn’t help but gawk at the picture like a teenager. He was the best-looking guy she had seen in her life.

“Like what you see, ladies?” a voice came behind them.

Jaime Lannister’s face was grinning underneath their sunshade, looking at the magazine. He was wearing aviator glasses and his cheeks were already slightly tanned, not to mention he was shirtless. He looked too good. Brienne looked away and tried to think of horses and rocks and skyscrapers and anything other than this blonde, pompous, handsome, irresponsible jerk…

“Kingslayer,” Daenerys responded from her seat to Brienne’s left.

The girl had been asleep, so she hadn’t been participating in the conversation, but apparently Jaime’s loud greetings had awoken her. The silver-haired beauty had taken to calling him a name that was usually only whispered behind his back. It came from all the speculation about her distant relative, Aerys Targaryen. He was from a different branch of her family, said to be one of the oldest dynasties to control and build the city of Kingsland. They were known as the Kingsland Targaryens, hence the name.

Nothing was proved for certain and in any case, Daenerys was born in Dragonstone and had never even met the guy. If anything, she had benefited from his death – it was her inheriting his old money that allowed her to enroll in Kingsland University and live in the city in the first place. But she still felt she could not be expected to behave in a politically correct way to the possible murderer of her own blood, leaving her to be the last Targaryen alive.

Jaime was unfazed by her comment. “Ah, today’s too beautiful a day for a fight.” He sipped the rum and coke on his hand, slid down his glasses slightly, and gave them a charming smile. “Care for a game of volleyball?”

–––

It wasn’t a coincidence that Jaime had shown up. Tyrion was one of Dany’s closest friends, in spite of his Lannister blood. So she’d invited him, and he’d invited Jaime. There were a lot of people from school around since it was almost their end of year break. Everyone wanted to relax and have fun. Plus they had two weeks of non-stop rain and the sky was finally clear, so a beach party was held at the Bay. There was music and all the local restaurants were open and serving everything and anything – ice cream, drinks, all kinds of food, and some other kind of ‘fun’ entertainment that Margaery and Daenerys might share later. (Sansa was terrified of it after a bad trip, and Brienne was terrified of it, period).

Loras and Renly had approached them earlier to say hello, as well as Margaery’s cousins Alla and Megga. Arys Oakheart waved at Brienne earlier as he took a walk down the beach holding his girlfriend’s hand, a gorgeous olive-skinned exchange student from Dorne.

Once they had managed to find a ball and asked to borrow it from a group of quite drunk seniors, they set up teams and started a volleyball match that surprisingly enough was a lot of fun and very tension relieving, given the participants. Jaime was teamed up with Tyrion and Margaery, while Sansa, Brienne and Daenerys were their opponents. That gave both of the latter girls a chance to direct a fair amount of balls right toward Jaime’s face – and get points for it, too.

About ten minutes into the game, Brienne became sure that the cocktail Margaery had brought her earlier was far from non-alcoholic; she started feeling too relaxed and having way too much fun. She felt free and giddy and uninhibited. The first sign was taking off her shorts and her hat, because it was “too damn hot under the sun”. The game was full of energy on all sides. In spite of Tyrion’s height, he was exceptionally good with overhand serves. The girls were quick and slight with their shots and Brienne’s height was quite an advantage.

For a while.

About fifteen minutes in, Brienne started thinking the latest outs were hilarious. She laughed and made Dany laugh in return, causing Margaery to come up with a _great_ idea, playing a drinking game. The three members of the team that hit an out had to take a shot. Everyone was completely on board, even (and especially) Brienne. They got a dedicated waitress from the nearest restaurant to keep bringing them mojitos.

Soon enough the game was basically all laughs and shots against the net. One of those times Sansa served, the ball bounced back on the net and fell down on top of Dany’s head. The girls laughed until they were breathless. Margaery and Tyrion were having a serious drinking contest by then, since both of them had a crazy high tolerance. Jaime was sipping his mojito good-naturedly, surprised by this new version of the blonde.

The game scores became a huge interrogation sign after Sansa fell on her butt when responding to Jaime’s serve after her fifth mojito. They kept laughing and both Dany and Brienne slumped down beside Sansa instead of helping her up. When they finally stopped, Sansa involuntarily burped as loud as a man and that got them going all over again.

Margaery and Tyrion eventually exchanged their drinking contest for a game of poker with Jaime in their long beach chairs, while the girls sobered up. Though they weren’t doing a very good job at it, since the waitress had just brought them a new round of mojitos for six.

Dany held her ground respectably for a while; she was quite an experienced girl after all. Sansa was almost as bad as Brienne, though she had developed a slightly better tolerance from her club hopping with Margaery. When they finally managed to pick themselves off the floor and head back to their chairs, Brienne was completely tipsy. She stumbled and Dany caught her in time, but it prompted a round of laughter all over again.

As soon as Sansa hit the beach towel she dozed off. Dany busied herself looking for something to eat for both her and Brienne, to soak up the alcohol. So, finding herself alone, Brienne sank down on the beach chair where Jaime was playing cards with the others, leaning her back completely against his.

“It’s so hot in this beach!” she exclaimed loudly. “And your back is burning!”

Margaery was utterly amused and Tyrion was way too into the game to pay any attention. Jaime turned his head to look at her, careful not to move too much and have her slip down to the floor. “You know, I think you might need to freshen up,” he said. “Why don’t we head into the water?”

Brienne stood up immediately, way too quickly, but Jaime caught her arm. Margaery stifled a laugh, nodding at him in thanks. Then she showed her hand to Tyrion – two aces. Tyrion groaned and held his head, “Not again! Are you cheating?!”

As they headed out to the beach, Dany arrived with two baskets full of fries. “Where’d Brienne go?”

Margaery and Tyrion grinned at her, looking hungrily at the food in her hands.

 –––

“Shit, that’s fucking cold!” Jaime exclaimed, pulling Brienne beside him by the arm. If she felt the cold in the water, she showed no signs of it. She was looking at her hands underneath the water as if it was the most fascinating thing she’d seen in her life.

“Hey, aren’t you cold?” He asked her.

She smiled and closed her eyes, looking like she was enjoying the sunshine on her face. “Not at all. It’s colder in Tarth.” Then she opened her eyes and seemed to realize she was alone with him. “Where’s Sansa?”

“She’s sleeping in the sand.”

The girl stared at his face, amused by something. He had no idea how he felt about this version of her. It was certainly refreshing to watch her out of her usual uptight self, enjoying the day and having fun. She spent her days slaving away either at school or at the gym.

A mischievous grin appeared on her lips and a second later his head was underneath the water, freezing him all over. He came back out to find her laughing, and proceeded to do the same to her. Seconds later both of them were soaked down to the last hair on their head, and laughed together as they splashed water on each other like kids.

The current grew harsher soon, so they agreed to go back to the shore. She seemed less tipsy now, so he let her swim back on her own. The girl was a fish if he’d ever seen one. It seemed that she had grown up close to the sea, like he had.

When they reached the shore, she sat right where the water met the sand, looking more relaxed than ever. He sat down next to her and started playing with the wet sand distractedly. The waves washed over their legs as they approached and shrunk back into the sea. “I take it you don’t drink often?”

Brienne smiled mischievously and whispered, “Alcohol is very, very bad.”

He felt it was too good a chance to tease her to let it slip. “I think you’re the one who’s being very, very bad, Brienne,” he said with his eyebrows raised.

She was surprised. “No ‘wench’? Who are you, and what have you done with Jaime Lannister?”

Jaime shrugged. “You asked me to call you by your name. Well, there you go. It’s a pretty name, anyway.” He felt safe enough to be frank to her. The odds were she wasn’t going to remember this conversation anyway. She did blush, though, so she wasn’t drunk enough not to feel embarrassed.

“Well, you’re pretty,” she pointed out. “Handsome. Not pretty. Pretty is for girls.”

That piqued his interest. “Oh, you think I’m handsome? I thought I was an asshole.”

She giggled. “You’re a handsome asshole.” Her giggle turned into a full laugh with her head thrown back. He watched her curiously as her head came back down and, without any kind of warning, she threw up on the space between them on the sand.

 _Well, I’m guessing that’s the end of this conversation_.

He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. A moment later a water balloon caught him right on the back, covering him in freezing cold water. He gasped from the shock and turned to look at Tyrion, holding an armful of balloons and grinning. Then a blue balloon from Dany got _him_ on the head, and the war was on.

While his friends wreaked havoc around him, he turned to look at Brienne, wondering if she was okay. It was as if nothing had happened, the waves had washed it all away, including her vomit. The girl had slumped down on the sand, bathing in the sunlight with a satisfied smile.

That was until Margaery poured a glass of ice-cold water on her chest, and the blonde shrieked and jumped up, chasing the offender all the way down the beach.

Today was a good day indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Tyrion is way cleverer than Margaery, but I figure she would have a better poker face. Plus he has a weakness for the ladies. ;)


	8. 159 - The butterfly collector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Get ready for a double chapter! This one goes with Chapter 9 - Steam. I’m keeping it chronological for a little while. This chapter’s song and title is from Butterfly Collector by Garbage, which I feel is the perfect Cersei song. Enjoy and once more thank you for your support!

**159**  
(The butterfly collector)

Cersei’s eyes were as green as his own and her golden curls were settled elegantly on her shoulders, bright in the afternoon light. She wore a crimson silk robe and black high heels, making her figure look like a goddess carved from stone.

“You’re late,” his cousin said disdainfully, before he had even uttered a word.

She opened the door wide and made her way back to her bedroom. Her penthouse was immense and luxurious, with marble floors and glass windows that filled the place with natural sunlight. Everything was impeccable. There was a jar full of fresh flowers on every table, giving a sweet smell to all the rooms, and every single object looked expensive: a leather couch, a huge flat-screen TV, silver candlesticks.

The blonde was apparently getting ready for an event. As Jaime walked into her bedroom he noticed a collection of designer dresses lying on her bed, each more revealing than the next. His favorite attire was her naked body in the moonlight, begging to be touched.

“Hello to you too, cousin,” he told her. “You called and I’m here, even in spite of the many things I had to do today.”

She poured him a glass of wine without failing to pour one for herself. Her robe slipped slightly down her shoulder, giving him an ample view of her cleavage. It didn’t feel like a coincidence. She sat beside him on the bed and let her fingers slightly brush against his when giving him the cup, and when she crossed her legs her robe opened at the bottom, almost reaching the top of her thighs. It made his heart beat faster.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she purred. “Jaime, Father is trying really hard to ruin my career. I was about to land a contract with GQ and he made it clear that he would have none of it. He said the Baratheons had stock there and the lion didn’t work for the stag. Please, will you talk to him?” She took his hand in hers and caressed his fingers.

Her big, gorgeous eyes pleaded to be comforted, while her soft tone of voice sought to subdue him. Even though she wasn’t Tywin’s daughter, she had always called him ‘Father’ since he could remember. Which probably would have made their being together even fouler in the eyes of both men and gods.

“I don’t see how I can help you, Cersei.” He removed his hand from her grasp. “Robert Baratheon is one of the biggest investors in that magazine. Everybody knows he uses it as his personal brothel. Every model that has landed a contract in GQ has paid the price on his bed.”

He set his wine down on the nightstand, untouched. He must have subconsciously seen this coming. Jaime hadn’t seen his cousin in weeks and she had grown very distant since the Aerys thing. She had quite a nerve to be asking for favors when she hadn’t called once to say hello.

“Is that why I’m here?” He asked her bluntly.

For weeks his patience had begun to grow thin, ever since he started feeling that her love for fame and fortune had long ago surpassed her love for him. He tried to recall the last time she had been with him without a request, demand or task on the edge of her lips, and not a single memory came to mind. Whatever they had been fell apart during their separation, but he had been far too infatuated by her charm to pick up the hints. She was too good at this game.

“Look, Cersei, in case you don’t remember, my relationship with Father has been nothing but tumultuous since our last dinner, when I told him I would never run his company. I have barely even seen him outside of the company parties and social events where he demands our presence.”

He recalled one a couple of months earlier where he had the audacity to seize Cersei in a hallway and fucked her with no reserves in one of the closets of the mansion. She had whispered “stop it” and “someone’s going to find us” over and over, while eagerly answering to his enthusiastic thrusts. Afterward she had pushed him away, smoothed her dress and stormed out, berating him for being so careless.

“But you can help me with this, Jaime, you can fix it. All he needs to hear is that you’ll run the company when you graduate.” She held his face in her hands, looking up at him with her green eyes. “Just tell him you’ll run the branch in the Rock. It will be okay.”

 _I’ve had about enough of this_. He stood up angrily.

“Are you listening to yourself? Why exactly would I go back to Casterly Rock? It’s not like you’ll even be there. You’re trying to get me into another mess. You _begged_ me to get into Kingsland University so we could be together again, and when you came back to the city you barely looked in my direction. I worked months for it, Cersei. I had to spend hours training to get a sports scholarship and even more time studying to get the minimum score to enroll.”

She frowned deeply, pushing back her long, flowing curls. She was so beautiful he wanted to throw her down to the bed and have her right then, fucking all his rage away. But he was _too_ angry. This relationship was going in circles like a carousel and he was desperate to get off the ride.

“I’m so tired of this, Cersei! I’m so sick of being some tool of yours. You only ever seek me out to ask things of me. You do know there’s a name for women who offer sex for –” His yell was cut off by a slap on his left cheek. Maybe he had gone too far.

“Get out!” She yelled at him. “I don’t need you. You’re useless!” 

Jaime had walked halfway to the door when he turned and took one last sight of her. She was as beautiful as she was poisonous. Every curve of her body was perfect; every word out of her mouth was part of a new scheme. He saw there were candles on her dining room and a very expensive, unopened bottle of wine next to them. _Is she having someone over for dinner, or were those for me?_ But he knew the question needed no answer. She had given him wine from a different bottle and received him in her bedroom.

He wondered if he had ever even had her as he slammed the door shut behind him.

–––

“I think she’s going to have someone over for dinner tonight,” Jaime told his brother with a stoic voice, keeping a stronghold on his emotions. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

They were sitting in the dining room at Jaime’s house, having a special dinner prepared by the blond himself. Tyrion had bet him a respectable amount of money that he wouldn’t be able to pull it off a couple of weeks earlier, so Jaime had taken it upon himself to investigate the hazardous task of cooking an entire pork haunch on his own.

Tyrion looked like he wanted to say the first thing that came to mind, but thought better of it. He looked at Jaime as if he was a vulnerable child that needed to be taught a lesson very slowly. “Look, brother,” he started. “I didn’t think this conversation was going to be necessary because I thought you two had ended this dysfunctional thing.”

He took a bite of his pork from the plate and chewed, looking attentively at him, as if waiting for him to explain if they were still together. Jaime said nothing.

“What’s gotten into her, and excuse my language,” he said calmly, “is a shitload of men.”

Jaime felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown at his face without warning. His stomach turned and his heart started racing, the way it did when people received terrible news. He frowned and dropped his fork on the plate. The sound echoed through the silent room.

“What are you _saying_?” he asked, his voice far louder than he had intended.

Tyrion sighed. “Do you ever wonder how she got that modeling contract at Calvin Klein, worth millions, so early in her career?”

Jaime’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes, that’s right. She met Osmund Kettleblack at one of her previous job’s fundraisers. A big brute of a man with a taste for blondes. He just happens to be the regional representative for the brand. What a coincidence, huh?” The dwarf sipped his wine from the glass, staring intently at his brother. “I don’t think I also need to explain how she passed a class that she didn’t even show up for during her first semester.”

Jaime felt furious, like someone had been laughing at his face and he hadn’t understood the joke. He wasn’t willing to believe this, not from her. He couldn’t be this big a fool.

“Jaime, she didn’t even care about what happened to you during the summer. Not that any of us know how that went down, gods know you won’t talk about it, but she didn’t even ask after you before she left for her gig in the Riverlands.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but held back.

“Tell me,” he said angrily. “Whatever it is.”

Tyrion failed to meet his gaze. “Cersei said she had a reputation to protect. That she couldn’t afford to be associated with a man that was under the microscope for murder… That it could mean the end of her career.”

Jaime’s green eyes regarded him in disbelief. If he had not attended Kingsland University, he would have never been involved in the Aerys incident in the first place. _We’ll be together again_ , she had said, _away from Father’s eyes_.

“I’m done having this conversation,” he finished, getting up from the table abruptly, “I’m going to bed.”

 

\---

He couldn’t sleep that night. Tyrion’s words had left a crack on his mind, filling him with doubts and questions like an uncontrollable river flowing with rage. He wanted nothing more than to look in a different direction, think of anything else, but it was eating him alive. Had she gone as far as Tyrion said? Had she dared to break their bond by inviting someone else into her bed, while he kept his faith like a fool? Had he been blinded by her charm for so long?

A few days later he needed no more proof than the one presented at the newsstand on the corner of his house. His beloved cousin was on the cover of GQ magazine. Her perfect features were etched with elegance; her hair was done up in a high ponytail with her golden locks neatly resting on her shoulder. She wore a black bustier with garters and bright red lipstick – the fantasy of any man with a pulse.

But he was sure to Robert Baratheon she had been more than a fantasy.


	9. 190 - Steam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes with Chapter 8 - The butterfly collector. The song is Cat Blues by The Seatbelts. 8)

**190**  
(Steam)

Seventy-one. Jaime was furious. This semester he was taking Catelyn Stark’s Economics class, which was mandatory since he was a Business Administration major. The woman was utterly without mercy when it came to him and never failed to spot and punish a mistake in his papers. He had put hours in the last one, eating away his end of the year break and he’d barely managed that score. He needed at least 80% to keep his average high enough to stay on the kickboxing team.

He was fuming by the time he got to the gym. It was deserted; even Coach Selmy was gone. The semester had only resumed the day before and it usually took a week for everyone to fall back into a regular schedule. He gave an energetic kick to the first sandbag he found, imagining the woman’s self-satisfied face on it. Once he was there, he wasn’t even sure he felt like training. Strangely enough he liked being focused when he worked out, and right now he was agitated and his mind was all over the place.

Then he got the perfect idea of what he should do and headed for the lockers with his bag slumped over his shoulder. He threw it on one of the benches, undressed and grabbed the towel in his locker.

Jaime was already inside the steaming sauna, pouring water on the rocks and buck-naked, when he heard a gasp. _Wait a minute, why is it full of steam already?_ He was startled and turned around to find Brienne as naked as himself, with a face so red she could have been choking for all he knew.

Her chest was so flat and muscular you could use it as a coffee table, but he wasn’t looking for long. The woman shielded her breasts with her arms fast as lightning, apparently forgetting that she also had a _lower_ body part to cover. He didn’t even realize he was staring until he felt himself grow hard at the sight for some _nonsensical_ reason, and turned around to cover himself immediately, lest she notice the absurdity that he had going on. _What in seven hells is the matter with me?_

When he was finally decent, he exclaimed, “What are you _doing_ here?!”

He noticed she had wrapped her body in a towel, but it was ludicrous – she was far too tall and most of her thighs were still visible. She hadn’t moved from her spot, sitting in the corner. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her face.

“There was no one here!” She bellowed, embarrassed. “How was I supposed to know you would show up?!”

“Well, this is the men’s bathroom after all.” He finally let a grin spread across his face. “You must have been looking for a little company. Were you waiting for Clegane? Or maybe Loras?” He couldn’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. “I would’ve paid big money to watch _that_ show.” He sat down opposite from her, as far as the sauna would allow.

She looked like she wanted to throw something at him, but found herself empty-handed. “I was _not_! I just wanted some peace and quiet! There’s no women’s bathroom, in case you haven’t noticed!” She crossed her arms furiously. “Stop laughing!”

That only made Jaime laugh harder. “Well, Happy New Year to you. Seems like I’ve gotten my present already. I hope you liked mine.”

The girl huffed and puffed as she got up to leave, making sure her towel was firmly closed.

“Hey, don’t leave on my account, Brienne!” He exclaimed, still laughing under his breath. “Are you really going to waste a steamy afternoon with me?”

But her only reply was the door shutting closed behind her and her loud curses on the other side. “Jackass” and “child” were the only words he could make out. He leaned back against the wall, relaxing in the hot steam. Drips of sweat already ran down his back and all his troubles had melted away. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat draining his tension. A grin was still planted firmly over his lips.

He went back to the lockers half an hour later and his grin turned upside down when realized his clothes and gym bag were gone. All that was left were his shoes. He found his cell phone on the bench – without the battery, that is. There was a note inside one of his shoes, scribbled in a very feminine handwriting.

“Happy New Year to you too.” – B


	10. 214 - Q&A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter today :) Thanks to everyone who commented on chapters 8 and 9, you made me giddy! This chapter's title comes from my favorite Homeland episode. Oh, and a cookie for anyone who spots the Gilmore Girls reference. I'm kind of nervous about this one, so here's wishing you like it! The song for this is Take Care by Florence + the Machine.

**214**  
(Q &A)

Today was the last day to sign up for the tournament, so _of course_ they were late. Brienne was brooding in the front seat as Jaime cursed every driver that got in his way and honked angrily at the guy in front of him half a second after the traffic light turned green.

“We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna make it,” was his mantra. _Pretty Fly for a White Guy_ was playing on his radio, in spite of Brienne’s many objections and her telling him it was time to grow up. (Then they had entered a heated discussion of Offspring vs. Metallica).

Brienne sighed heavily. “We’re never going to make it. They said the office was open until 6. It’s 5:50. We’ve got at least ten more blocks to go in this traffic. And employees will probably leave early because it’s Friday.” She sunk into the comfortable leather seat.

“It’s not over till it’s over!” He dug his foot into the accelerator as the traffic cleared slightly. When they turned the corner, they noticed the last street was almost clear and there were only a couple of traffic lights in the way of them and the building. “See? I told you.”

She just rolled her eyes, wishing they’d get lucky and having to spend the afternoon with him wasn’t in vain. They were forced to go together to sign up because Selmy had only written one letter of approval for all team members who applied, which at the end had been just them. Almost no one else was interested. Loras thought a tournament that took place in Flea Bottom would be way too ordinary and insignificant to advance his career, and Sandor Clegane, whose name was in the document, hadn’t shown up to meet them. Waiting ten extra minutes for him had already made them slightly late, but Jaime’s absolute _need_ to pick up two cheeseburgers to go when they passed Payne’s Grill had been the nail in their coffin.

They miraculously found an empty spot right in front of the office building. This was not a very good neighborhood and people looked kind of shifty, but not much else could be expected of Flea Bottom after all. It was the poorest district in the city.

The street was very narrow; it barely had two lanes, one of which was occupied by parked cars. The houses and buildings were constructed too closely, like some giant had shoved them all together. Most of the structures were old, some of them crumbling, and graffiti was abundant. There was a homeless man in the street across from them, asking for change, as well as a group of stray dogs in the corner. The smell of the street was the worst part. It smelled of rotting fish mixed with old trash and sewer waters.

Jaime didn’t fail to grab the bags of food on his way out. Brienne stared at him in disbelief. “What? In case we have to wait or something. Maybe there’s a line. Plus in this place I wouldn’t put it past people to steal the food in my car.”

She grunted and they went along their way, rushing to the lobby of the old building. A TV was on in the reception, indicating that maybe a security guard was there moments ago, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you know the floor?” She asked.

Jaime checked the flyer in his pocket. “Sixth floor, office 6-B.”

They rode the elevator up and noticed the place was deserted. The people in these offices were very serious about their end of day. They only passed a janitor in the hallway and the man hardly noticed them, since he was wearing a pair of earphones.

The lights in the office were on, but there was no one and the door was locked. They rang the doorbell multiple times and received no response. Brienne gave an exasperated groan. “I told you. But we just _had_ to wait until the last day.”

Jaime snorted. “Well, I apologize for having a life. I was busy every other day this week. And it’s not my fault Selmy put all our names in one document. Otherwise you could’ve come when you wanted.”

The girl sighed. “We’re not gonna get anything accomplished here. Let’s call on Monday and see if maybe they’ll allow a late sign-up.”

They had to show up personally to sign their agreement to the rules of the competition and accept that they would take no responsibility for injuries. So Brienne had been forced to spend time with Jaime outside of training. They had been sparring partners for four months now, so they had learned to be civil to each other and maybe teammates to a point, but they hadn’t reached a level of friendship to be comfortable spending the afternoon together. It felt tense and forced.

It was the longest they’d been alone outside of the gym since the party and their drunken scuffle, like that had gone _so_ well.

They were riding the elevator down when everything went dark.

A couple of seconds later, the emergency lights came on. The elevator had stopped. They looked at each other in confusion.

“I guess there’s a blackout,” Brienne pointed out. “The electricity should come back in a minute.” She pressed the emergency intercom in the elevator and said a few hellos, but there was no reply. It was the same when she knocked on the elevator door.

Jamie sighed, took off his jacket, and slumped down on the floor. “Let’s see. There was no guard to be found on the reception, so even if he was in the bathroom and is now there, he never saw us come in and doesn’t know we’re here. It’s also probably close to the end of his shift ‘cause the building is basically empty. And I can assure you the janitor barely saw us. Plus he’s on the sixth floor and we’re stuck on the second.”

Brienne felt a tingle of panic. “But they must have backup generators for emergencies.”

Jaime chortled. “Flea Bottom, remember?”

The realization dawned on her. If the electricity didn’t come back up soon, they would be stuck in this tiny elevator for hours. She tried to push the doors open to no avail. She was not that comfortable with closed spaces for long periods of time, and even less so if Jaime soon grew bored and started throwing his usual retorts at her.

This was going to be a long night.

Jaime grinned at her, raising his eyebrows. He lifted the bag of takeout in the air in triumph. “Behold the mighty cheeseburger, savior of the doomed!”

–––

It had already been an hour and the burgers were long gone. There were no signs of the power coming back up and their usual back and forth of retorts had extinguished.

They had been in silence for a few minutes, both of them sitting on the floor with their backs rested on opposite sides. Jaime fiddled with his cell phone, doing nothing really, since there was no signal there. He glanced over at the blonde in the corner.

"You're sweating," he pointed out. Jaime was not yet so uncomfortable being locked in as Brienne appeared to be.

She nodded. "Yeah, um... It's kind of hot in here."

"Well, I'm not sweating yet... Are you okay? You look a bit pale." That was saying a lot, considering how fair-skinned she was.

Her blue eyes seemed distracted and slightly unfocused as she replied, "I just don't like small spaces. I mean, I'm not claustrophobic or anything, but..." She gazed at him before continuing, as if she felt like she was talking too much. "I grew up in Tarth. It's a small island, but to me it's the most beautiful place in the world. I spent my whole life watching the sea day and night, sailing and breathing the salty air. I guess I’m just so used to the endlessness of the sea that closed places feel unnatural."

This was without a doubt the most he'd ever heard from Brienne, especially something so personal. He felt like he was solving one of life's mysteries by unraveling her story, given how private and closed down she usually was, at least with him.

Jaime knew he should be supportive if he wanted to keep listening to her stories, and he also felt it would be a good idea to distract her so she wouldn't feel nervous about their current quandary.

"It's normal for anyone to be bothered by a space like this, especially because we've been here a while now." He ran his hand through his hair. "It might bother me as well, but I used to crawl into any and every cave in Casterly Rock as a kid. My father's estate. It felt like there were hundreds of them and I loved to explore. My cousin and I would go on adventures together and collect seashells."

Brienne seemed slightly more relaxed now, hearing him talk. All they needed was to talk about something while the damned power came back on.

"Let's talk about anything," he suggested. "Time will go by quicker."

"Like what?" Brienne's expression was of complete insecurity. _Apparently she doesn't want to share anything with the likes of me_.

"Anything. We can play twenty questions or truth and dare or whatever you can think of. I'm bored."

The girl was stupefied and gave no reply; she was far too shy to start chatting right off the bat. Jaime sighed. She probably just needed a push in the right direction.

"Fine, I'll start. First question: What about you would surprise people if they knew?"

Brienne immediately looked at her feet, stretched out before her. "I..." She blushed. "I don't really think this game is..."

Jaime snickered under his breath. There was something about her that he had never observed in any other women. He initially thought it was naïveté, but he was starting to believe it was something much purer – innocence.

"Okay… If I say something, do you promise to say your own thing?" He asked. The girl gazed at him, looking for the sincerity in his eyes. "I promise not to make stuff up," he assured her.

She nodded, though a blush had firmly settled on her cheeks.

"I've only been with one woman my whole life," he confessed with a grin. "Twenty-three years old and just one."

Her eyes opened slightly in surprise. She obviously hadn’t expected that. Due to his looks people automatically believed him a playboy.

"Okay," she cleared her throat, "what you always said about me... with Renly... It's true. He's the only guy I've ever liked." A smile crept its way into her features. "And he turned out to be gay." She laughed softly, finding amusement in her misery.

He let a soft laugh escape his own lips, joining hers. In all his days knowing her, this was the first time he heard her laugh in a non-inebriated state. Even in spite of her crooked teeth, he thought she had never been prettier than she was now. _Or less ugly, at least_.

"That's cheating, you know. That one I already knew."

She stuck her tongue out at him. Brienne was a lot more comfortable talking to him now, and she seemed to have forgotten about their being trapped for a moment.

"I'll let it slide, just that one." He sat up straight and crossed his legs, already tired of the same position. "What's the most shameful thing about you?"

Maybe that was pushing it a bit far. But he wasn't going to take it back. She said nothing yet, so it looked like he'd have to start every round.

"That one woman I mentioned?" She nodded. "It was my cousin Cersei."

Brienne blinked in confusion, but much to his surprise she wasn't immediately horrified. "Cersei?"

"Cersei and I grew up together. Her father was my uncle Gerion. He was an adventurer, my dad used to say, so he joined the navy, but he was declared MIA during one of his tours.”

Brienne watched him attentively, without a hint of judgment in her eyes. He was surprised to see how easy it felt to talk to her. If they'd told him months ago that he would be telling these stories to the wench (who had earned being called her actual name by now), he would have laughed outright.

"That happened when we were really young, a few months after my mother died. I was three at the time and Tyrion was a baby. Since her mother had also passed, Cersei came to live with us, and my father raised her as his own. Our birthdays are only a couple of weeks apart, and we look so much alike that we passed for twins many times. So we grew up joined at the hip; we did everything together, like two halves of a whole. We moved to Kingsland once my father's company absorbed the biggest ones in The Reach.

"When she was sent to the most expensive boarding school in Lannisport for high school, it was the most difficult time of our lives. Or at least mine. We made a plan to go to Kingsland University to be together again, but when she came back she slowly started feeling like a different person."

He felt like he'd already said too much, though Brienne was still listening to his story in a kind of dazzle.

He wrapped up, "Anyway, I was always faithful to her."

Brienne slowly came out of her spell. She fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket before speaking. "I... have never been with anyone."

 _Well, that’s no surprise_. Both because of her lack of attractiveness and her severe shyness. But she wasn't done.

"When I started high school in Highgarden," she said in a soft voice, like she was confessing a sin in front of the gods, "I was used to being mocked and stared at. So that's what I was expecting there. But what I received was very different." She paused, weighing her every word. "A group of boys asked me on dates, gave me flowers and left me notes in my locker. They fought to sit with me at lunch and classes."

Jaime was completely silent, with a strange feeling of dread at whatever was coming. This couldn't be going anywhere good.

“Of all the boys, I was most impressed with Hyle Hunt. He gave me beautiful editions of my favorite books and once even sparred with me. That was worth the most to me.” Brienne's voice was calm, but it was barely above a whisper. "The principal's son heard all of them talking one day and told his father. He called me in and the mystery was solved." She smiled the saddest smile he'd seen in his life. "They had a wager on my... first time. So many boys were on it that the reward was quite high."

Jaime's fist closed without him even noticing. He felt an anger and impotence that wasn't his to feel. He may have teased the girl at first, but what these boys had done was downright revolting.

"Did you kick their asses?" was all he could manage to say. His indignity had crept its way to his voice.

For a second her smile was less sad. "Only one, Hunt's. He's the only one who boxed." In a more cheerful tone she added, "It felt really good."

–––

When Brienne realized what they were talking about, she felt like this was an out of body experience. Like it was some other girl talking to Jaime, spilling all her secrets to one of her enemies. Well, maybe not her enemy, but not quite her friend, either. Even Sansa, who was her best friend, had never heard them. They made her feel ashamed and insignificant.

But it was Jaime’s side of the conversation that had brought this out in her. His tales were far more personal and unexpected. She couldn’t understand why when he spoke of Cersei, instead of feeling a slight disgust at him being with his first cousin, she felt small. She had seen Cersei around at school, but she had dropped out last July, apparently because of her drinking problem. The woman was an absolute beauty, and everything Brienne was not: slim, with slight curves, astonishing golden locks and bright green eyes. She knew every man in school was half in love with her.

She could not understand what had stirred in her when hearing it. It had made her heart beat faster and her stomach turn. The feeling was gone now, but it bothered her that it had taken place at all.

Jaime had said nothing else after her story; he had just smiled at her last words and fell silent. Maybe her story was far too pathetic to have shared it with him. Since he had the initiative before, she should probably be the first to ask another question, but before she had thought of anything, he asked, “What is it about me that angers you?”

He had thrown the question in the air quickly, as if he was afraid it might not actually leave his lips otherwise. She might have been taken aback at some other time, but right now they were going too far anyway. “You don’t anger me,” she replied. “You disappoint me.”

“Disappoint you?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

She spoke clearly and with absolute conviction for once. “I knew about you before I came to Kingsland. I followed your career because you were said to be one of the best in the history of college leagues. I watched some videos of your fights online, admiring your signature hooks. But then…”

From one second to another, a frown had emerged on his features. His eyes looked the way they did when they had met, full of rage and arrogance. “Of course,” he said firmly.

Brienne continued, “I met you. I was in one of your classes for an entire semester, did you know? Professor Baelish’s History of Politics. And I wanted to talk to you sometimes, ask you to train with me maybe, but you always behaved so full of yourself. You never even looked in my direction. And if you had, you’d have made fun of me or teased me like everyone else. That’s what you did in the end, anyway.” There was a note of repressed irritation in her voice that she hadn’t intended, but now she couldn’t stop talking. “I was your laughingstock for so long. But this is what I am and I’m proud of myself. I’ve accomplished a lot in a world that belongs to men. A world where everyone’s sins are forgiven but my ugliness isn’t. Where you… you…”

Jaime gritted his teeth. “Say it!” He yelled. “Don’t stop on my account!”

She said nothing. Brienne could not figure out when exactly this conversation had taken a turn for the worse, but she felt it was the one right time to be honest. She finished, “It angers me that you might be a murderer,” she said softly. “That it might all be true.”

Brienne’s change in tone didn’t go unnoticed and Jaime’s attitude toned down as well. He let out a heavy breath, containing his anger and calming down before replying, “It all comes down to him. Aerys.”

The girl struggled to keep her big blue eyes completely focused on his. Their gazes met as if they were fighting for dominance. She saw a level of impotence that she had never seen in him, but had felt many times herself.

–––

The memories burned in him. They were simultaneously too close and too far. It was months ago, but he could recall every single detail about them. That was the day everything changed for him. The very core of who he was, young and successful, had started to rot and fall apart. Since then he was never again a boy, but a man full of regret, with a broken reputation, all from the one only selfless thing he had ever done.

"He was my roommate at campus. We never got along because I thought he was too intense and we had none of the same interests. I barely even saw him." Jaime's voice was tired and worn, just like him. "He was isolated from everyone and everything, just locked down in his room, never coming out. At one point he stopped going to class altogether.

"As the weeks went by, he joked about fire and blowing things up and how insignificant people were. I thought he might be getting depressed from being locked in that room. I told him many times to try to go out and get some fresh air or maybe go back home, but he wouldn't budge. Then he was quiet for days.

"One weekend there was a suspicious fire in a barn on campus and two horses from the equestrian team were found dead. They figured out it wasn't spontaneous, but their investigation led nowhere."

He glanced at Brienne to see if she was listening. Her eyes were intent, like a detective looking for the truth in the subject's eyes. "I went to the counselors to tell them about his earlier threats, but they said there was nothing they could do without proof. I was worried that next time it would be more than horses, and I was right at that. Two nights later a girl was found dead. She was raped and beaten like a dog."

Brienne frowned indignantly.

"I knew it was him, but once more I had no proof. So I sought it. He had become more paranoid than ever and started missing from our room, hiding gods know where. I found some wires, acetone and liquid stains in a hole inside the wall. The guy had lost it. There were scribblings and calculations in his notepads. It wouldn't be enough to denounce it, but it was enough for me to be alert. The maniac could kill us all. I looked for him everywhere and found him outside the burned down barn admiring his work.

"I asked him what he'd done several times. Where the explosives were. He was disoriented and smelled like he hadn't showered in days. He had a huge grin on his face, the son of a bitch. All he said was 'I'll burn them all'. I hit him with all my might and asked him where they were, but he wouldn't tell me. Not until I beat his face to a pulp did he give any kind of answer. By then he was screaming so loudly that students were finally being drawn to where we were.

"Ironically enough, the cops took _me_ to be interrogated for assault. Aerys was taken to the hospital. I told them about the explosives and they found them, but that ended up making me a suspect. So they dealt with them quietly to avoid a student panic and it was sealed as a part of the police record.

"Aerys suffered brain damage from his injuries and died soon after the incident from a complication in surgery. On the explosive charges I was let go because there was no proof they were mine. On the assault charges my father had a hand, and quite a big one at that. There is almost no place untouched by Tywin Lannister's interests. Not even the Night's Watch." Jaime looked down at his feet, lost in memory. His life sounded like some joke or a bad dream. He was a puppet of both fate and fortune.

"The rest everyone knows. Dean Baratheon thought the _fair_ approach for saving his precious life and school was to kick me out of the team for violence. He thought keeping me enrolled was already too much of a reward for preventing a massacre. All my father managed to get me was the chance of getting back on the team if I improved my grades."

Brienne spoke softly, "Jaime..."

He continued, "To everyone I'm the bullet on Aerys' head. A murderer. Fuck them all," his voice was poignant, "all I've gotten in return for that day has been scorn and spite and whispers behind my back. 'Kingslayer'. All because of how it _looks_."

He finally felt silent. Month after month he had kept every single one of those words inside him, devouring him alive. As they came out he felt cleansed, like the weight of his entire existence was lifted off. He didn’t need a reply from Brienne. It was easy to see that she believed him from the look in her eyes, and it was all he needed.

Jaime saw that she had tried to reach for his hand, very slowly and hesitantly, but decided against it and placed it back on her lap. Then she looked down at her feet once more and whispered, “What do you dream of?”

It was easy to answer. “A world without Tywin Lannister. A world when I can just be myself.” He glanced at her, awaiting her own response to the question.

She studied his eyes, then looked once more at her feet and spoke softly. “Having Sansa’s charm, or Margaery’s wit, or Daenerys’ beauty. Being normal. Walking down the street without being pointed out.”

He reached out and moved a strand of hair out of her eyes, her gorgeous eyes. She looked up in surprise. “Then you would be anyone, any girl out there. And I wouldn’t have faced the best fights of my life.”

Brienne’s eyes glimmered and she blushed slightly, but for once did not move her gaze away. He felt a peace that he had not felt in a long time, or maybe ever, watching her then. It took him a moment to realize that the lights were back on, and a second later the elevator resumed its motion downwards.

When they got to their floor and the doors opened, neither of them moved nor spoke. All he wanted was to look at those eyes, and she seemed happy enough watching his.


	11. 346 - The fighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes with chapter 12: The road. There’s a couple of lines from ASOS here, once more, I don’t own it. Thanks to everyone who’s still keeping up with this story, commenting or giving kudos, you make this so worthwhile! (You’re making me add more chapters to this! :P)

**346**  
(The fighter)

By the time Brienne heard the news, Jaime had already missed practice twice. He never missed practice, so she suspected something was awry, but after their fight and their moment at the gym she didn’t know where they stood and hadn’t written him.

She was also quite disconnected from school that week. She had finally found a small studio apartment and was busy moving out of her and Sansa’s dorm. She decided to live by herself – Sansa was moving in with Margaery. Brienne was fine with it. For a few months they’d been spending more time together and they certainly a lot more in common than the redhead and the blonde, even if they were good friends.

“Brienne?” Tyrion said at the other end of the phone. “Are you still there?”

Strangely enough, it had been Jaime’s own brother who had finally told her what happened. She wasn’t particularly close to him, but given his own limitations he had never mocked her. Plus he was smart and witty, a cool guy to hang out with.

“I’m here,” she answered. Her voice came out hoarse and strained. “I’ll call you back.” She hung up.

She put her back to the nearest wall and slid down to the floor. There were boxes full of her things to either side of her. The apartment was upside down and she had been starving before the phone rang. She was wearing some old jeans and a dirty gray t-shirt while she cleaned the kitchen.

Brienne felt a heavy weight in her chest. Her stomach became a knot and she had no idea how long it had been since she stopped talking to Tyrion. It felt like seconds, but when she received a text with the address for the hospital, she noticed twenty minutes had already gone by.

 _Amputated. Infection. ICU. Moved down to a room_. That was all she registered of the conversation.

Was it ICU first or moved down to a room? Was the infection gone? Maybe she should call Tyrion again. Maybe she should resume cleaning, maybe she should eat, maybe she should wait until she knew what to say before thinking of going. Yes, that was definitely the right choice – otherwise she was likely to make a fool of herself.

Yes, those were very nice thoughts to have, if she had only had them before grabbing her green shoulder bag from the kitchen counter in a hurry and scrambling into the first cab she encountered in the street.

–––

Jaime was alone and asleep when she got to his room. He was in one of the VIP suites at the hospital, reserved only for people with big pockets who could afford it. There was a huge window in front of his bed, a large TV and his sheets looked more expensive than all of her bedclothes put together. He had a private nurse sitting outside his room, ready for whatever he might need.

“The infection is gone,” the nurse confided, still standing by the door after she’d let Brienne inside. “He’s been out of the ICU for five days. He’s stable now.” She hesitated. “Physically, at least.”

The middle-aged woman looked like she had said too much and excused herself to return to her post outside, leaving Brienne alone with Jaime.

She sat on a comfortable couch on the corner, afraid to get any closer, even though she knew he wasn’t aware of her presence. Only then did she actually stop to think about the whole thing: his right hand was gone; his chance to go to nationals was crushed. She remembered how angry he’d been that his father wanted him to quit. _Fighting is my life_ , he’d told her.

The blonde realized she hadn’t brought anything for him, which was understandable given that she was still wearing her dirty shirt and her hair was probably a mess. She looked inside her bag to see if she had something to offer him (or a comb), but all she had aside from her phone and wallet was a protein bar. She remembered how much he’d liked it when she shared one with him, and it dawned on her that they might never spar again. It was the cruelest fate she could imagine for him – to leave him broken.

She glanced toward him, seeing how still he was. His brow was sweating; he was pale and had dark rings under his eyes. She gathered the courage to sit on a chair at his right side and looked at his stump, wrapped in clean bandages. His left wrist had an IV, and he still had a bruise on that forearm from their last fight. Jaime had left her a bruise of his own on the right side of her hip. But she _really_ shouldn’t think about that day…

Something must have possessed her, because she found herself brushing away a strand of hair from his damp brow. He stirred and opened his eyes very slowly. She snatched her hand back as a reflex, looking like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Jaime’s eyes had none of the warmth they had weeks before. They were full of dread. He looked away from her. “Why are you here?”

His voice was weak and strained. Her first instinct was to run away, but something deep inside her told her he needed to hear her out, that maybe he needed a push. _I think he needs to see you_ , Tyrion had told her.

“I just found out about what happened.” She showed him the protein bar. “The nurse said you don’t want to eat. Here, I know you like these.” She opened it for him.

“No.” Jaime was firm. He still didn’t want to look at her. Brienne couldn’t let him dissolve into this. Whatever this was.

“Look at me,” she asked just as firmly. He did, with his cold, dead eyes. Brienne didn’t flinch. “What are you doing?”

“Dying,” was all he said.

A frown covered her face. This was not the man she sparred with. This was not the man who knocked her against a phone in a kitchen at one in the morning. This was not the man who kissed her and insisted on showing up in her dreams.

“Coward.” She got his attention – he gritted his teeth at her words. “You need to live. You need to live and fight this. Don’t give them the satisfaction. All of them.”

–––

 _What’s she saying?_ The pressure in his stump was killing him. He was angry and hateful and just downright done with this, with all of it.

“I’m no _coward_!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Of all kinds of things he heard during the last days, this was the only one that managed to shock him. Jaime thought of her and the last time they talked, watching her walk away. And before that, he remembered her face in the rain and that look of hurt in her eyes that she couldn’t manage to hide. He wanted to push the thoughts away, but they stuck to him like leeches, draining his resolve.

“Then live!” She was unyielding. “Eat. Drink. Fight this!”

_How can I fight without my hand? Isn’t that all I am?_

He looked up at the ceiling, waiting for some answer to fall off the sky. Jaime’s memories jumped to the last year, to the hours he put in studying to be able to stay in school, to the feeling of passing a dreadful test. He remembered that even though he was a year behind the rest of his class, he was barely a month away from finishing his last semester and graduating.

Most of all, he thought of her. The feeling of her lips brushing against his, the rush of his blood through his veins from the fight, the uncontrollable need to kiss her there and then without restraint. Her astonishing blue eyes. For a second he thought of how much he wanted to continue writing the chapters of their story, to see where it would go.

His gaze softened and for seconds he said nothing. He sat up on the bed. She helped him with the pillows, without him having to ask. Then she broke every piece of the protein bar and handed them to him as he ate using his left hand. He drank an entire glass of water in big gulps, and realized how sick he was of this room and this bed and his own self-pity, day after day after day.

He fought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was songless until merrynovice made a note of these perfect lyrics in Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer":
> 
> "In the clearing stands a boxer  
>  And a fighter by his trade  
>  And he carries a reminder  
>  Of every glove that laid him low  
>  Or cut him, til he cried out,  
>  In his anger and his shame  
>  'I am leaving, I am leaving,'  
>  But the fighter still remains...."
> 
> Not to mention these:
> 
> "When I left my home  
> And my family,  
> I was no more than a boy  
> In the company of strangers"
> 
> Which are as book!Jaime as I've ever seen. Thanks for these! :)


	12. 425 - The road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jump to the future! This chapter wouldn’t exist if not for Falling by Florence + the Machine. Seriously, it came up to my head completely from listening to the song. This chapter goes with chapter 11: The fighter.

**425**  
(The road)

It rained and rained and rained. The water drops were large and made a loud noise as they fell against the cab's window. The driver went very slowly; the streets were a mess. In the distance, he could hear thunder. Jaime's very formal suit was choking him. He loosened the knot of his burgundy tie with his left hand.

He sighed softly and glanced at her. She was as far from him as she could get in the back seat, looking intently out the window with her chin rested on her left hand. Her short hair was neatly combed. She wore a navy dress that for once fit her adequately – no doubt she had spent a long time shopping until she found it. She had also come up with the courage to wear short heels, making her toned legs stand out in the mid-calf skirt of the dress. Sansa convinced her to wear some light make-up. The eyeliner highlighted her blue eyes, dimming the rest of her homely features.

To him, Brienne looked beautiful tonight.

The only reason either of them had to look so formal was the mighty Tywin. Lannister & Co. hosted a charity gala tonight, and his father demanded his presence. Every powerful man in the city attended with fat pockets and big bellies and blank checks, willing to do anything to gain favor with his father.

The problem was that he had also demanded the presence of Cersei, who barely had any inhibitions left after her fifth glass of wine, and wasn't afraid to make a spectacle of herself to humiliate his companion in front of his father. The only thing he was thankful for was the fact that they were in his father's study at the time, in one of the most private wings of the Red Keep, Tywin's mansion in the city.

Brienne hadn't even flinched. She had kept her ground and her dignity and her head held high, as Cersei insulted her and Tywin spoke of her like she wasn't in the room. She had built an impenetrable wall around herself. It made him remember every single time he insulted her or mocked her. He felt a deep regret that no matter what, he could not go back and change those days, because now he could see behind the wall. The girl had been humiliated and mistreated so repeatedly in her life that she had developed an entire mechanism to survive it.

Jaime felt like a child beside her. He had been a golden boy for years and only little over a year ago had he started to experience real life, where people judged you, insulted you, put you down, and it had been a bitter pill to swallow.

Fight after fight he had appreciated her strong arms, strong legs, strong abs. But he never realized that the strongest thing about this woman was her heart.

He bit his lower lip subconsciously and reached out for her right hand, which was gripping her purse loosely in the middle of the back seat. He intertwined his fingers with hers and caressed her hand with his thumb. His gaze sought hers, and for once found nothing – the girl didn't move.

Initially her hand held his, but then it slowly left his grasp, gripped her purse once more and went to rest on her lap.


	13. 309 - Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes with chapter 14 - Whiskey. The song for both is Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

**309**  
(Rain)

Who knew it only took being in the rain for half an hour, soaked to the bone and angry to your core to figure out you’re in love with someone.

Brienne walked, and walked, and walked. Her converse shoes were soaked and felt like little pools on her feet, squishing with every step. She found herself in front of Jaime’s door, standing on the street. The few passersby she encountered stared at her before going on their way. Whether it was due to the fact that she looked like she just taken a fully clothed dip in a pool or just the usual gapes about how big she was, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was furious.

She knocked on his door.

It took him about two minutes to open it. He had a very angry look on his face and he was talking on the phone. He was shocked to see her at first, but then a look of regret made its way into his features. He should at least have the _decency_ to hang up the phone. But he didn’t, he was just standing there with his stupid mouth open, not saying a word, not _doing_ anything.

“You asked me! You asked me to talk to you and to give you a chance! And now you don’t even have the courtesy to show up?!” The rain kept falling on her head.

“I…” He started, but got nowhere. She gave him a chance to explain, even if he didn’t deserve it. But apparently nothing was going to come out of his mouth. “I’ll call you back”, he said to whomever was on the other end of his phone, and hung up. “Brienne, I…”

“You mock me! Like everyone else!” she howled at him.

“I swear I don’t, Brienne, I’m so sorry, it’s just that something came up and it just flew out of my mind that you –”

“That I was waiting for you, like an idiot, at campus?” She threw her soaked sweater at his face, the one she used to cover herself from the rain at first, and had taken off once it became pointless. “I missed my train to Storm’s End waiting for you!”

Jaime’s face was full of shame. “Please come in,” he asked, opening the door wider. “I’ll get you a towel.”

She wanted to scream at him and tell him off and ask him never to contact her again. She wanted to turn back time a few hours and forget about Jaime and jump on her train, the train that would take her to Storm’s End, where she’d catch a ferry to Tarth to attend Goodwin’s funeral.

But it was true that she was soaked, so she walked in and accepted the towel and dried her hair and face. She was never going to make it in time to his funeral now. The man had been like a second father to Brienne, he had cared when no one else had and he had seen her potential where others had only seen failure. She owed him that, at least. She swallowed all her tears, every one of them, like she had too many times before.

“What was so important?” It was all that was left for her to ask.

He was quiet for so long that she knew, and he didn’t have to spell it out for her. _Cersei_.

“Oh,” was all she managed.

Was she worth so little to him? The last few days and weeks and months of getting somewhere with Jaime had been meaningless. She didn’t even feel like yelling at him or bickering anymore. It was just over.

“It’s over,” she echoed. “Whatever this is. This partnership. This friendship.” She put the towel on the table and headed for the door. She felt slightly ridiculous even saying it, given that this obviously meant more to her than it did to him. “I’m done.”

She closed the door behind her and walked home.

–––

Daenerys arrived at Brienne and Sansa’s dorm shortly after her, with a pint of ice cream and a box of tissues. Sansa was sitting on her bed, flipping through a pile of movies. They were both dressed very simply, like they’d just been dragged out of bed. Minutes later Margaery arrived with a bottle of wine.

Brienne was slumped on her bed, wearing her pajamas after taking a long shower. It wasn’t like her to talk about this with anyone, but she was grateful that for once she had friends who were interested in her problems. She kept it short and to the point, to avoid any more tears than necessary. Some of them were already running silently down her cheeks.

“Coach Goodwin. He died yesterday,” she started. “My father called me to tell me about it. The funeral is early tomorrow morning. I would have caught a plane, but the storms are so bad right now that all the flights are canceled. So my only choice was the train.”

Her friends ate their ice cream and listened to her intently. Daenerys was combing Brienne’s hair and tying it in a ponytail.

“It’s a long, boring train ride. Um… Jaime noticed something was wrong with me yesterday when we were supposed to have our extra practice at the gym. He asked and asked, so I told him about it. And he said… Well, he offered to come with me. Said he had no plans and didn’t mind. That maybe I shouldn’t go alone.”

Brienne looked down. “I told him it was important for him to be on time today. That it was the last train. I couldn’t catch an earlier one because I had a test at noon.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper and quivered. She felt ashamed that she had ever hoped he’d be there. “He never showed to meet me at campus. I missed my train and I’m not going to make it for the funeral tomorrow.”

“Didn’t he even call?” Sansa asked, horrified. “Didn’t he send a message or an e-mail or…”

Brienne shook her head. “I… I was so angry I went to his place.”

Margaery’s eyes lit up. “Did you kick him in the balls?”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t. I asked what happened. He forgot. And that’s it…” The rest she had to keep to herself.

None of the girls knew what to say, other than the usual “that asshole!” and “the nerve of him”. Brienne understood and was thankful for the company. At least tonight she could spend time with them and distract herself, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The wound ran deep, knowing that he had stood her up for Cersei _._ Renly and Hunt and Red Ronnet were insignificant compared to what she felt now. Realizing she was in love with Jaime hit her hard – she couldn’t pick a worse subject for her affection. He would never reciprocate and it would be Renly all over again, twice as pathetic.

 _I’ve been a fool_.

She sighed, wiped her tears and stuck a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in her mouth. _I thought taking a punch was hard_ , she thought. _But men are a whole other league._


	14. 310 - Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes with chapter 13 - Rain. To see how this little adventure ends, read chapter 6 - The grip. Thus this cycle is complete. :)

**310**  
(Whiskey)

 “You did _what_?”

Tyrion was appalled by his brother’s behavior. Jaime could tell by the little lines that formed on his forehead, showing his irritation. He had seen the expression many times before, when either Cersei or his father made some distasteful comment. Tyrion poured him some whiskey and sat across from him in the kitchen table.

“I was late. I didn’t notice the time because I was so caught up with this Cersei shit,” Jaime replied. “She called me saying she was in some trouble again over her crap with alcohol. Something about a DUI and needing me to pick her up at the station. Telling me over and over that she loved me.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Are you so dense as that? I told you what she’s done, I told you about all the other guys she’s been with while you’ve been faithful to her, and still you manage to stay fascinated with our cousin?”

Jaime closed his eyes and groaned. “I’m not, I swear. I’m just so tired of her shit that I kept talking about how she had pissed on me time after time and I was still there like some loyal dog. I told her it was wrong and I was done with it,” Jaime put down his drink. “Time just flew by, I had no idea we’d talked for so long. Then Brienne was outside my door.”

“Did she kick you in the balls?”

“No, but she sure as hell looked like she wanted to.”

Tyrion laughed under his breath. “You would have had it coming, brother. You’ve made quite a mess here, and now you got a lot to make up for.”

“She said it was over.”

The dwarf raised his eyebrows and drank from his glass. “The plot thickens.” Jaime’s interest was piqued. “That’s the kind of thing you say to someone you care about… You know… as more than a friend.”

He didn’t know what he could respond. Throughout the past weeks he did sense that his feelings, and maybe – _maybe_ – hers were changing, that they were somehow closer. Her attitude towards him had certainly changed after he told her what really happened with Aerys. He was still impressed that he had told her at all. Even Tyrion didn’t know the whole truth behind it.

They had even developed a great rhythm when training, both of them pointing out each other’s weaknesses and improving significantly. Plus the girl had seemingly endless amounts of stamina and could train for hours, just like him, until they were exhausted. And whatever he’d felt that day when they’d fought in the kitchen during the party… That was new to him. With Cersei everything had always felt so much like a habit, something natural, a part of who he was. But with Brienne, it felt unpredictable. One minute they were fighting and the next he found himself dazzled by her big blue eyes or staring at her well toned arms in admiration. It was like she grew on him, even in spite of his every initial objection.

“I have to fix this,” Jaime said, gulping down his whiskey. “I really fucked up.”


	15. 355 - The hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple chapter! ;) All three of them were SO hard to write. I hope they came out okay! For future reference this group is made by The hill, Twenty-one and Sleep. This chapter’s song is Breath of Life by (guess who?) Florence + the Machine.

**355**  
(The hill)

They remained together in silence for minutes as they watched the sun setting and the first stars appear in the sky.

Jaime and Brienne were lying down on the hood of Brienne's new car, an early graduation present from his father. It was a navy-colored sedan, nowhere near as fancy as Jaime's car had been before it was totaled, but she was happy that it was a hybrid, which would save her a lot of gas money in the long run.

Jaime had been having one of his bad days, so Brienne thought of sharing her favorite spot in Kingsland with him. They were in Rhaenys' Hill, on a side of the curvy mountain road that overlooked the entire city. It fascinated her to come here during twilight, watching every light of the city go on one after another, until the darkness covered them like a blanket and the moon was perched in the sky, ruling above them all.

She glanced over at him. He was still looking dejected, but not as much as he had a couple of hours earlier. The wound was too recent and she couldn't even begin to imagine what he must be feeling, having to readapt to pretty much every single thing in his life, like getting dressed or taking a shower or eating a meal.

Brienne felt it was the right time to talk to him and try to cheer him up. "When I'm feeling low or having more problems than I can handle, I come here. Before I had a car, I took a bus that drops you off at the Street of Sisters, so I hiked all the way up here to clear my head."

Jaime turned his head to look at her as she spoke, but his eyes were still tired and distant. The orange glow from the sun setting in the horizon highlighted his striking features and gave his eyes a faint glimmer of expectancy.

"This is the best time to come, watching the lights go on." She smiled. "Every light is a home where life goes on for people. People with problems. Some worry about looks or having the most expensive things, others struggle to put food on the table. But every single one of them has a problem to solve… A challenge to face."

She looked away, toward the houses and buildings and roads. “Jaime, the thing is... Problems are what keep us alive. An existence without a challenge is the same as being dead.”

Jaime said nothing for a moment, looking up wistfully at the sky. Then he whispered, "Sometimes I wished I had died. Instead I became less than a man."

Brienne felt as if he had thrown a bucket of cold water on her, but she had to hold her ground. She had to make him see. "You're here today. You're breathing. Are you going to soldier through this, or let it bury you alive?" She sat up and stared intently into his eyes. “I will be with you every step of the way."

When he returned her gaze she thought he seemed slightly more hopeful.

"Tell me about it. The accident. Talk to me like we talked in the elevator." The girl swallowed her embarrassment and reached for his left hand, taking it into hers. "Maybe you need to let it out so you can let it go."

Jaime didn't move his hand away, but his gaze went back to the darkening clouds. He had a frown on his face. "It was no accident," he started. "I'm sure."

She waited for him to be ready. He seemed to be organizing his thoughts about the dreaded day. The girl had a strong suspicion that he had blocked out the experience entirely, afraid to dig into his memories.

"It was ten by the time I finished my paper at the library. I was tired and wanted to get home and get a good night's sleep." His voice was steady and calm, keeping a firm grip on his emotions. "But when I got to the first traffic light along the road, the breaks failed and I was hit by a speeding SUV as I passed the red light. The impact was so strong that my car overturned and hit a post.

“I can't remember much after that, and by the time I woke up I had spent two days in the ICU. But what I do remember is a feeling that I was being followed. The street where I was driving is always deserted so late during weekdays, and my car had been in the shop recently, so there was no reason for the breaks to fail."

Brienne tightened her grip on his hand, hardly able to believe where the story was heading.

"I don’t even have to try too hard to find a motive. Lannister & Co. had been under the microscope for weeks because their name popped up in a Night’s Watch investigation. My father said it was nothing, but Tyrion, curious as he is, decided to dig deeper. The company was believed to have affiliations with The Brave Companions."

Brienne's eyes widened in shock. "The terrorists?"

He nodded. "At this point I’d expect anything from my father, especially something like that. I'm guessing the investigation made him shut any financial exchanges that would be suspicious, and that probably didn't make them happy."

The blonde frowned indignantly.

"They thought it would be smart to send him a message, his heir in a body bag. But their plans crapped out when I survived. I imagine my father sent them back a message of his own to shut down the entire thing." He smiled bitterly. "Long live the Lions of the Rock, huh?"

 _This is all going backwards_. Brienne had brought Jaime there to cheer him up and instead she was now feeling as miserable as he was. She thought growing up without a mother was hard, but Jaime had lived through the same ordeal and then some.

There was nothing she could say, so she simply folded her hands on her lap, watching a plane take off in the distance. _So much for this idea_.

"I felt like I was dying," Jaime said softly. "I felt more panic than ever before in my life."

Brienne was at a loss, wondering if there was anything at all that she could say. They both stayed quiet for minutes, taking in the view as the day withered and died. The wind picked up and became strong enough to tug at her loose t-shirt. The CD she was playing at a low volume in her car stopped and the silence engulfed them. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"I know you feel like no one cares," she murmured, looking straight into his eyes. “But I care, Jaime.”

He sat up gradually and got down from the hood of the car. Then he approached the road fence and looked back at her, as if he was waiting for her to follow. "Come here."

She was paralyzed by the suggestion, but listened to him anyway. She had to trust him if she wanted the same from him. When she reached him, Jaime held her right hand with his left and pulled her towards him as he stepped over the waist-high fence. All that was beyond was the end of the curve and an extremely high cliff.

"Have you gone insane?" She asked at once. _Does he mean to kill us both?_

But he smiled instead, and before she knew it, she was following him. He hasn't smiled in days and at this point she would do anything to keep him cheerful for a second.

When they reached the other side, they were barely less than five feet away from the edge. The breeze felt much harsher there and it made her hair flap against her face. Even though she'd been on cliffs many times in Tarth, this was far riskier. The sound of the wind was so strong she barely heard anything else. Fear invaded her and there was a pit in her stomach.

Jaime pulled her in one firm motion toward him until they were close together. He placed her hand on his chest and his own over her hers, slightly above her left breast. It was then that she understood what he was doing.

"It's beating," he told her, loud enough for her to hear through the breeze filling her ears.

It was. Her heart was fluttering and adrenaline flooded her veins. Two steps further and they would splatter against some street or a tree, miles below them. It took her a moment to realize his heart was beating as fast as hers, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. He was alive.

It was the first time she let herself understand how terrified she was about what happened, about the possibility of him dying in the accident. Imagining for once what her life would be like if he had never opened his green eyes to look at her, the void he would leave behind that she hadn’t let herself acknowledge. For the first time she wept in front of him without restraint, hating the feeling of vulnerability, taking her guard down. _I have no right to feel this way_ , she thought, _when he’s the one with all the wounds_.

She pulled him closer, wrapping him in the tightest embrace she could muster, with a feeling that no other moment in her life would be so terrifying and intense at the same time.


	16. 359 - Twenty-one

**359**  
(Twenty-one)

Brienne woke up to the sound of an annoying tune in her bedroom. _Five more minutes,_ was her first thought. _Just five_.

She reached for her phone and realized it wasn't ringing, so it wasn't her alarm. Then she looked up in front of her with blurry eyes and found the source. Sansa and Dany were sitting at the foot of her bed, holding a cupcake with a pink candle and singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

"Oh no," she muttered.

They smiled broadly and she knew they wouldn't leave without their celebration. So she listened to their singing still half asleep, blew the little candle and ate the carrot cupcake. _That ought to do it_. She slumped back on her bed.

"No celebrations today, like we promised," Sansa assured her. "Just a cake tonight, the three of us and Margaery. A little slumber party!"

Dany added, "And you get to pick the movie."

She fell for it completely, like a child. But once they left and she was done showering and dressing, she found Sansa’s bag of party goods hidden in her cleaning supplies cabinet, including one of Margaery’s signature vodka bottles. _Oh well_ , she sighed. _At least they’ll make me celebrate in my own home_.

As she waited for the coffee to be ready (if her old, temperamental coffeepot allowed it), she went through her mail. There was a card from her father like every year, with his best wishes. He would call her later to chat. Then bills and more bills: Internet, electricity, credit card. At the bottom she found a medium-sized box delivered anonymously.

She could hear the coffee boiling, but she was very curious to find out what it was. She opened the seal with a butter knife and found a small piece of paper inside, underneath a brand new –and quite expensive– pair of kickboxing gloves.

"For your trouble." – J

She smiled absently while her coffee burned in the pot.


	17. 430 - Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, for future reference, this chapter is part of a triple chapter group with The hill (Chapter 14) and Twenty-one (Chapter 15). The song for this one is the loooovely In The Cold, Cold Night by The White Stripes. <3 As always, comments are greatly appreciated! :)

**430**  
(Sleep)

“There’s a boy in my room,” Brienne whispered into the speaker in a panic. “What do I do?”

“WHAT?” Sansa screamed at the other end. “What are you talking about?!”

She cleared her throat, embarrassed. “Jaime,” she said as softly as humanly possible so he wouldn’t hear, even though she was very well hidden in her bathroom. “He’s sleeping in my bed.”

All that came through was a squeal. If Sansa was asleep before, there was no indication of it now. “Oh gods! This is major! You’ve been waiting for this for sooo long –”

“N-no!” Brienne cut her off. “We haven’t _done_ anything. He’s just there. Sleeping. I mean, I was asleep and I woke up and he was sleeping there with me. Last I knew we were watching a movie in the couch and I was kinda tired and… I guess I fell asleep.”

She felt even more embarrassed then. There was no possible way for him to carry her, so she must have been awake momentarily when he escorted her to her room, but she couldn’t remember.

“Shhh!” Sansa called, reminding her to lower her voice. “Get back in there. Now! Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for your spot right now? You have Jaime Lannister in your bed and you’re talking to _me_? Not to mention it’s 2 AM, Bri.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Sansa sounded agitated and Brienne knew she was probably waking Margaery to tell her the story. It was far too juicy to wait. “I’m hanging up noooow,” the redhead said as a groan of protest was heard in the background. “Go back to bed! And most of all, enjoy!” The call ended.

 _Oh, man_. Brienne got up from the bathroom floor. She was still wearing last night’s clothes and her hair was a mess from the pillow. She tried to comb it with her hands to no avail. It would get ruined when she went back to bed, anyway. She took a deep breath.

“You can do this. You are a perfectly capable young woman,” she whispered. She was glad she had cleared that up with the mirror and the bottle of shampoo next to it.

Her knees felt completely weak as she walked back to her bedroom. She slumped on the bed harder than she had intended and watched Jaime open his eyes, cursing herself. _Well, what in seven hells do I do now?_

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I… um…”

Once his eyes focused, he grinned and pulled her close. He wrapped her with the sheet and planted a kiss in her mouth that was far from sweet and innocent. She felt his left hand run up her spine, inside her shirt. It was warm against her skin and made her heart start beating faster. She allowed her tongue to explore his mouth with an appetite she had never allowed herself to experience before. His own responded quickly, their kisses stumbling one after the other, his hot breath tickling her upper lip.

Then he started kissing her downward, first on her chin, then her neck. A moan escaped her mouth as she felt the tip of his tongue on her earlobe, followed by a soft, slow nibbling. In spite of her rising temperature, she had goosebumps on her arms.

They had never done anything like this. So far they had only tried a million different kisses, some turning a bit more heated than others, but nothing more. Though she wanted very much to go further with him, Brienne felt something holding her back and couldn’t understand what it was. Perhaps it was the feeling that this was too new, that she wanted to enjoy every little thing they did together. That she wanted to process this and let herself believe she wasn’t dreaming.

His body slowly climbed sideways onto hers as his left hand pulled her waist closer, and she felt something hard pressing against her thigh, like it wanted to break out of his pants and get into hers. It involuntarily caused a reaction inside her, making her moist and sending a wave of excitement through her groin.

“Jaime, I…”

He stopped nibbling and placed a tender kiss on her ear, then another on her cheek. “I know. It’s okay.”

She smiled and nodded, keeping him close. Seconds passed while their heart rates went back to normal and they had a chance to drive away their fervent thoughts. The girl rested her head underneath his chin and he held her as they both slipped back into an easy, peaceful sleep.

The snooze button of the alarm would surely get a lot of activity the next morning.


	18. 389 - Cooking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Double chapter :) Once more thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave their feedback, you're forcing my brain to write more of this!
> 
> The song for this is Feeling Good by Muse.

**389**  
(Cooking)

Whoever said ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same’ obviously didn't know Jaime Lannister.

Things were changing, every single day they evolved before her eyes, spinning her life in circles and sending shivers down her spine.

Three weeks ago Jaime asked her to the movies, and for the first time held her hand during an intense fighting scene. He didn't let go when they left, so they walked down the street hand in hand between begrudging glances from all kinds of attractive women. Brienne felt like she wanted the ground to swallow her, but she also felt unbelievably heartened that the most handsome man in Kingsland wasn't ashamed of her.

Four days later she had encountered him in one of the hallways as they made their way to their respective classes, and he had pulled her into the nearest empty classroom and kissed her till their mouths were swollen.

A week after that they went to his favorite ice cream parlor with their friends to celebrate the girls signing their graduation documents, and she turned a deep shade of red when Jaime brought only one huge cone for both of them to share. When a drop of chocolate ice cream fell on her chin, he gave her the most mischievous look of his life and kissed her there, followed by a peck on her lips. She was sure smoke was coming out of her ears as Margaery whistled, Sansa's mouth dropped open and Tyrion grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

She was puzzled, to say the least. The man must have been mad to feel the way he did about her with her ridiculous height, flat chest and absolute lack of curves, not to mention her crooked teeth and her freckles. Especially after being with _her_.

Brienne certainly didn't like to think about it, because it constituted a medieval sort of torture to compare herself to Cersei. But she couldn't help feeling astonished by Jaime's trajectory from point C to point B with such a level of reckless abandon. She thought of the stunning golden-haired beauty, her strong-willed personality, her glamorous and rich lifestyle, her face in every magazine. Her frequent interviews on TV, talking about her fast-growing career, so far away, so many miles ahead.

But when the moment to contrast came up, all she could think about was her fights with Jaime. She recalled the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the sight of his every muscle, his fists coming towards her, her parries meeting them, his sweat running down his forehead. His grip, her resistance, his kisses. She thought of the speed and strength he put into every one of their encounters on the ring and how flattered it made her feel that he would consider her an opponent worthy of giving her nothing less than his very best in a match.

Something inside her went to sleep then; the abundant self-doubt towards their relationship was suddenly put to rest by the thought. He was with her because he could fight her, because he could be his deepest, most genuine self with her, and she had given him back every bit of the same. Brienne might never be all that a woman must be, but she was everything a fighter could aspire to become, through years and years and years of work. She could be his equal. 

Even though Jaime would never be the great fighter he once was, now he was learning to fight a different kind of battle that she had mastered so many years before – the fight of living day-to-day in a world where you lost things, where they were taken from you, where you were stepped on and had to move forward, look ahead. Where you were forced to grow.

She was cutting up peppers absently in his kitchen with the most expensive knife she had ever used, while various pots and pans were cooking in the stove. There were delicious smells all around her and a hint of garlic in the air from the bread she had pulled out of the oven a few minutes earlier.

The inside of his house had impressed her. Though she had been there before, when she had come to scream at him after missing her train, she hadn’t paid any attention to her surroundings.

It was a two-story townhouse, located in one of the main avenues downtown, where property prices were permanently on the rise. It had parquet flooring and his living room had an immense TV. His coffee table was covered with videogames, PlayStation controllers and Men’s Health magazines. There wasn’t a single feminine touch in any of the rooms, the curtains were burgundy and the walls were white. His kitchen was very big, but she could tell he hardly used it, everything was impeccable and there were plates still in their boxes in some of the cabinets.

Brienne felt his arms wrap around her waist as she stirred the tomato sauce and was startled to be pulled out of her thoughts so abruptly, feeling embarrassed that he might somehow read her mind and see that she had been thinking about him, recalling every one of his little touches and kisses in the past weeks.

 _Then there’s this_.

Jaime intertwined the fingers of his left hand in hers and she felt his warm breath on her neck as he spoke. “That smells good.” He kissed the back of her neck, giving her instant goosebumps.

“Well, you’d better eat it,” she replied. “It’s taking hours. Your kitchen is too slow.”

He bit her neck lightly, making her shudder. “Maybe your sauce is too thick.”

“Maybe your stove is too small.”

He ran the tip of his nose down her earlobe and whispered, “My stove is just big enough, wench.”

 _Oh. Gods. Inhale. Exhale_. But she wouldn’t. Her breath was caught in her throat. She felt his grin on her cheek and a second later he was sitting her on the kitchen counter and kissing her like a hungry lion savoring his prey. She ran her tongue over his lower lip and he slipped his tongue into hers as he placed his left hand on the back of her neck, beckoning her closer.

She couldn’t help but place her arms around his waist tightly. The taste of his mouth was intoxicating, shutting down her brain and dulling her senses. She could feel the muscles of his back clenching and unclenching as he moved his head down, burying it in her neck and placing soft kisses on her shoulder.

They were interrupted by a cough and broke apart in an instant. Tyrion had walked into the kitchen with Sansa, who was blushing madly and looking towards the ceiling. Brienne jumped down from the counter and might have squealed from the embarrassment, had not Tyrion spoken right then.

“I think lunch isn’t ready yet, Sansa,” he remarked, “but I think soon enough the chili might be sauceless from the way that smells.” He smirked and fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “Seems like our chef’s hands are a little busy.”

Brienne noticed the sauce boiling and turned off the stove in a hurry. Big drops had jumped out of the pot, splattering all over the stovetop.

“Well, brother, making lunch is a hazardous, demanding task,” Jaime replied mockingly.  “Surely you must know, since you seem to be _cooking_ with Tysha so frequently.”

Margaery poked her head inside, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread. As soon as she noticed her blushing face and Sansa’s mortified expression, she laughed with impish eyes. “I think we should set the table, guys,” she said, dragging Sansa by the arm and making a head gesture to Tyrion, who was lifting his eyebrows jeeringly at Jaime.

Brienne thought this might be an appropriate time to drown her head in the sauce.


	19. 406 - Streetlamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Hardest of Hearts by Florence + the Machine.

**406**  
(Streetlamp)

“You're a narcissistic prick!"

"What does that make you, I wonder?" Jaime shook his hands angrily as he yelled. "You think you're so much better than me, but you have this compulsive need to fix everything and everyone!”

“ _Fix_ you? Are you serious?!” Brienne bellowed. “You were with Cersei because she encouraged you to dwell in your darkness, to never strive to be anything more. Now that you’re with me it terrifies you that someone might give a shit! Guess what, I do! I want you to get back on your feet and I promised I’d be there! So you’ll just have to grow the fuck up and accept it!”

Jaime’s head felt like it was going to explode from the pressure. Hers must be as well, else she must have been close to some breaking point. This was definitely the most profane version of the blonde he had seen so far.

“Why? Because you feel responsible for me? I’m a fucking adult, Brienne!”

“Then act like it, Jaime!” Her words came out in a roar that could have made walls crumble. She was so angry he thought she might punch him or kick him any minute now, but he was feeling the same way. “I told you it’s not about you!”

“Well, I don’t _believe_ you.”

“Have I given you reason not to?”

“For starters I don’t even know if you’re my girlfriend or my nurse anymore!”

The look she gave him paralyzed him. It was worse than being slapped or punched. He was aware this was a very bad road to go down, especially since they had never even mentioned a word like _girlfriend_ and this was an exceedingly bad time to do it.

"I'm done with this bullshit conversation!" Brienne's face was flushed from screaming.

She wiped her angry tears from her face, like they were shameful. Her eyes were brimming with emotion – disappointment, rage, hurt. They were watery and shined against the light from the streetlamp.

He wanted to turn around and leave and go away forever, anywhere. He wanted to close his eyes and go back to a different time, a different life. He cursed the day he met Brienne Tarth. He cursed the day he lost his hand and his own self. He wanted to walk away and forget. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and thank her. He wanted to feel like he could be enough for her. Like he was worth her gesture of giving up a spot in nationals or her glistening tears.

Jaime wanted to say "stay" or "fuck you" or "stop, wench", anything to keep her from leaving, but the words stuck in his throat. 

He watched Brienne go with a knot in his stomach. He pulled up the zipper of his jacket and was left alone with the sound of the night crickets and moths buzzing in the light bulb. The air was cold and there was no one else on Cobbler’s Square so late at night, especially during a long holiday weekend.

On Aegon Targaryen Day all the students went back home to celebrate with their families, have endless meals and watch the fireworks together, but the idea seemed absurd to him now. His family was composed by his estranged father, his ex-lover-cousin and a brother who had taken off to the Narrow Sea with his girlfriend Tysha for the rest of the summer. Amongst so many things Brienne seemed to be doing for him now was postponing her trip to Tarth to spend the holiday with her father.

He was desperate. Outside her new job as an intern for Olenna Tyrell in The Golden Rose, the country’s top newspaper, Brienne had been nothing but devoted to helping him adapt to his new life without a hand. She had forced him to go to physiotherapy and forced him to go to his checkups and forced him to go back to the gym to train with her. Every single one of those things had contributed to making him better, reducing his nightmares and his phantom limb pains.

But just as things got better and acceptance to his current situation kicked in, he also realized that he would have to live this way his whole life. Every moment in his future would be tainted by his lack of a hand, impairing him and making him weaker than everyone else.

Now she had told him what she’d been keeping silent for days – she wasn’t going to nationals. She said it was because she was overloaded at work, that she had too much to learn too soon and taking three weeks off to go to Riverrun was insane. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was afraid he would spiral out of control without someone to help out, especially with Tyrion gone. The conversation had gotten extremely intense and out of hand, making them both irrational.

He couldn’t accept that she might be doing this for him because no one in his life had ever been selfless. Cersei wanted things, his father wanted things. Tyrion had always looked up to him as his protector. But now he could barely put on his shirt in the morning, let alone offer something to anyone.

He was as grateful as he was miserable. He had no reason to think she would lie to him and he was clear that this new internship meant a lot to her. It wasn’t every day that a journalism major had the opportunity to work personally with one of the most respected women in Westeros. It could also mean a full-time job when they received their diplomas in October.

But truthfully he was starting to feel like an intolerable burden and during the beginnings of their new relationship he had gotten to know enough of her to feel like he couldn’t give her what she deserved, because no matter how hard he worked to get better, his hand wasn’t about to grow back. What kind of a future could he offer her?

Jaime stood there for a long time. Waiting, wanting. He was tired and couldn't remember his last peaceful night. The cold winds arrived and the first drops of rain poured down on his head. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and walked and walked, until he arrived at his empty house and slumped down on his bed, where he would be embraced by uneasy dreams.


	20. 407 - Ticking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter: 407 - Ticking / 440 - Economics. This is the only chapter with a dual POV, which was quite difficult to write. The song for this is the absolutely, surprisingly perfect A Sound That Only You Can Hear by K's Choice.

**407**  
(Ticking)

Jaime and Brienne sat at opposite sides of his dining table. The room was spacious and usually full of light from the glass doors that led to the small patio, but the sun had already set and the only source of light was the antique Emeralite desk lamp beside them, a gift from his father.

Their gazes met like two armies waiting to declare an attack in a field, armed and ready to go. A chronometer was set in front of them, in the center of the oak dining table. There was nothing else on it other than their folded arms. After hours of wondering how they could possibly have a civilized version of their latest conversation, they had reached the conclusion that they had to work it out the only way they knew how.

"Three minutes," Jaime declared. "No interruptions."

"Ten seconds is a knockout," Brienne negotiated. "It will mean losing a turn."

Jaime paused to think about it, then nodded. He pulled a silver stag out of his pocket. "Heads or tails?" He threw the coin in the air and let it fall on the table.

"Heads," the girl called without moving her gaze an inch.

The thoughts boiled in their minds. The questions, the doubt. Their hearts were pricked by the uncertainty of a future hanging by a thread, depending on a stance or a simple answer. Memories became their pickaxes as they climbed the mountain, waiting to see if they reached the top or fell prey to the storms, the cold winds, the thirst.

The ancient stag of House Baratheon greeted them with a glow from the reflected light.

Brienne didn't waste a second. "Your girlfriend or your nurse?" She asked, and started the timer.

"Girlfriend," Jaime replied without hesitation. "Because of your job or because of me?" He reset the timer deftly in one quick motion with his left hand.

Brienne took a few moments to think about it, then whispered, "Both."

For half a second Jaime winced, but it rapidly disappeared behind a slight frown. His blood stirred, impotence threatened to swallow him, to make him give way to his wounded pride. Had he a right hand, his fingers would have stirred with impatience. He couldn’t tell what made him more restless, her commitment to him or how much he needed her.

"You can't fight the battle for me." His voice was unyielding.

His heart skipped a beat. _Too harsh_. He took a breath. Recollections flooded his mind’s eye. Every insult he had received, ‘murderer’, every spiteful glance. Cersei’s scorn. His father’s disinterest. Then her. Her and nothing else, her and the empty fantasy that his life had been before her.

Jaime's frown relaxed and he looked intensely into her eyes. "But I _am_ glad to have you fighting beside me."

Her stomach turned with too many emotions put together. Fear dominated the list, fear that she had given too much of her to have it thrown back at her, fear that she had let herself get to this point. Had she been a fool? His green eyes dazed her and filled her with expectations.

Brienne's look softened and her only response was a nod.

She stopped the chronometer. It was the sole sound that filled the otherwise quiet room. Outside the house, the silence was interrupted by the almost steady flow of cars passing by on the street, their music, their breaks, some people speaking loudly as they walked by, a dog barking in the distance.

"Why did you bring her up?"

The chronometer started again.

Jaime's eyes filled with shame, like a gate had been opened and a river had started flowing through. "You were right." He exhaled heavily. "It was easy to be anything I wanted with her. No sin mattered. No act was bad."

Brienne seemed almost hurt by his comment, but she would hold back anything she might feel like saying. They'd promised not to interrupt and she was a stickler for the rules.

"You make me want to be better than that." He looked down, like every word he said was difficult and unusual as it rolled off his tongue. "You make me feel like the choices I make matter. It's terrifying."

 _Terrifying_. That was an abundant feeling in her ever since they had grown closer. Terrified at the excitement, terrified at his caresses and kisses and terrified at his power over her. No one should have power over her. They would mock her, take advantage of her. She had to be independent, she couldn’t want – _need_ – something of Jaime.

This relationship was a time bomb, a battle of wills, an unstoppable push and pull that was only ever suspended in the middle by the intensity of their urge to reach out to each other, half fearing and half expecting to be burned out by the fire. Expecting to be proven right in their suspicion that this was nothing more a shadow on the wall.

Brienne was disconcerted. The weight of every second was crushing them. Jaime finally met her eyes again and stopped the timer. Her blue eyes seemed frozen with an expression of bewilderment. Jaime counted in his head.

"It's been ten seconds. You said that was a knockout."

"I haven't asked a question."

Ten more seconds passed. The chronometer rolled to the floor and started running as Jaime stood from his chair and pulled the back of her neck towards him into a kiss filled with the desperation of a man stranded on an island. His tongue entered her mouth looking for a relief to the black hole in his stomach that had threatened to consume him for hours. Hers met his and slowed him down to calmness, finding his message in a bottle and coming to his aid.

It might have been minutes or hours. The night swallowed the day; the frequency of the cars passing by was diminished. The night crickets sang and still they kissed, driving the fear away.

The clock ticked and ticked as they sewed their mutually inflicted wounds back together. He urged her into the table, lying down atop her, kissing her until every thought could be dismantled. She held his face and received his kisses, submitting into his will, relenting control just long enough to imagine this being real, long enough to dwell in the dream and forget the harsh realities that little by little had knocked the life out of her so many times.

 _We can’t go further_ , she thought, _this can’t be real_. It was Jaime Lannister, it was the same man she had wondered about and met and hated and liked. _I can’t love you_. A tear rolled down her face. He frowned and wiped it away and looked at her with a fierceness that stripped her of every presumption she had ever had about him, about them. _Don’t make me love you_. His green eyes thawed the ice around hers and she broke like a girl, and with every tear she kissed him, tasted him, held him closer. _It’s too late_. Jaime rested his hand on her temple, kissing her cheek and her chin and her damp eyes.

Minutes became hours. The cars stopped passing by and the moonlight filled the room. As she left to drive back home a void invaded them, a presence missing, the pain of incompleteness that can only come from the bittersweet sensation of being whole, the price to pay for rapture.


	21. 440 - Economics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter: 407 - Ticking / 440 - Economics.
> 
> Smut! 
> 
> My first ever, too. But not the last ;)
> 
> Song: Mad About You by Hooverphonic. Gotta love a song with the line "Give me all your true hate and I'll translate it in our bed." Ugh, perfect J/B.
> 
> Anyway... I really do hope you enjoy this! *blush* More coming soon. Pun not intended.

**440**  
(Economics)

Their tongues wrestled for dominance and the Economics book they were using to study was currently being crushed under Jaime's bare back, but he barely registered it.

His left hand ran down Brienne's spine, positioning itself comfortably on her buttocks, pulling her closer toward him. Their bodies blended into Brienne’s couch, feeling like each single piece of clothing between them was one too many.

The girl's nipples were hard as stone as they rubbed against his chest through her tank top, making his erection grow even harder, fighting his boxers for release. Jaime's head was on fire, his cheeks were flushed from the intensity of their kisses and there was no thought on his mind other than the excruciating desire he was experiencing for the blonde.

He ran his hand up her thigh and a second later he was fumbling for the button of her shorts. The girl was straddling him, nipping at his neck and leaving love bites in the path of her mouth. The fact that she was sitting atop him with all her shyness long forgotten made his heart flutter faster than a hummingbird's wings.

He felt like he was going to explode, but when the girl's hand gradually reached down to his crotch and grabbed his cock through his jeans, he was absolutely sure this had to be happening in his head. But both the pleasure and pain he felt when she bit his lower lip between kisses and pulled on it with desperation confirmed that this was very real indeed.

Then she looked at him with huge, pleading eyes and whispered, still with her hand positioned on his pants. "Jaime... Can I...?"

 _Oh, seven hells, yes_.

Instead of replying, he gave her a kiss that left her breathless, and she understood the message. She got up and helped him out of his pants, knowing full well that he was still having trouble with such tasks. When he was down to his boxers she blushed, but still looked at him like he was a gift ready to be unwrapped.

"Are you scared of it? It won't bite, I assure you," he told her cheekily. Her response was pushing him back on the couch and sliding her hand inside his boxers.

A grunt escaped him when he felt her warm, sweaty hand curl around him softly. Then she looked at him, hesitant to continue. "Is that good?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled at her and put his left hand atop her right, motivating her to grip tighter and showing her how to move her hand up and down in a steady rhythm. She picked it up soon enough and seconds later his entire energy was focused on holding on just one more second, two more seconds, three...

But then all of a sudden she sped up the motion of her wrist and came up with the courage to rub his head with her thumb, sending him over the edge at last. He groaned and reached his peak, spilling onto her hand from the suddenness of it all.

Though this was their first time, she looked more aroused than shocked at the sight. Once his head stopped spinning he sat up, holding her close with his right arm so she was still sitting on his hips. He gave her a soft kiss and reached for a napkin from the coffee table. "Sorry," he whispered as she wiped her hands, "we both like you way too much."

She bit her lower lip. _She does that when she wants to say something_. He waited for the next action on her part, which in this case was lowering her chin slightly, looking down at her chest. _A defensive position. She wants me to take the lead._

"You like me too, don't you?" He kissed her neck, breathing in his favorite kind of air, the air around her, perfumed by her shampoo and her soap and the sweat running down between her small breasts.

Keeping her firmly pressed to him with his right arm, he reached inside her shirt with his left. His fingers made their way slowly upwards until they reached a nipple and held it tightly enough to make her moan a second later. "Tell me," he asked her.

"I like you," she whispered softly as he lifted her shirt with her help, uncovering her warm chest. Then he set to the task of entertaining her other nipple with his tongue. "Jaime… Jaime, I…" She breathed deeply. Each word out of her mouth was a crescent symphony in his ears. "I like you both very, very…" Once more she moaned as he took her nipple between his teeth ever so softly. "– much, I… Jaime, please…"

He felt feverish. Every single thing that happened seemed like something out of his dirtiest dreams. He couldn't believe this girl who was so strong and determined, shaped by life to be a warrior, was melting into him this way. He felt like he owned her in the sweetest way, she was his and no one else's, because he got to see deep into her, past every one of her barriers, into the rawest of her nature.

 _I love her_.

He felt a tingle of panic that was only surpassed by his excitement. His heart skipped a beat and he felt terrified to his very core that he was feeling this way, because love had always felt to him like driving a fast car, but right now he felt like he was jumping off a cliff, giving her everything he was, without the slightest clue of what awaited him at the bottom.

His hand made its way down to her shorts. He had already loosened the button before, so his fingers roamed freely down to her underwear. She arched into him right as he touched her, and he remembered how new this was for her. "You're so wet," he whispered into her ear, before brushing his nose against her cheek and planting a hungry kiss in her mouth.

When they broke, her blue eyes stared at his in a daze until he snuck his hand completely inside her moist underwear and explored her with his finger gently. She shut her eyes and gasped, holding him as closely as possible.

Her muscles clutched around it so vigorously that he added two more, sending her into a feverish series of thrusts to accelerate his rhythm. Jaime couldn't decide which of the things the girl was doing aroused him the most – whispering his name repeatedly under her breath or the moans that escaped her lips like she couldn't contain them. He was already beginning to grow hard again.

Then she opened her eyes and looked at him with a glance that said she might slip from the edge of the world. He helped her finish by rubbing his thumb between her folds a bit clumsily, still adjusting to the use of his left hand.

She bit his shoulder as she let go, arching her back and gasping for breath. Her face became even more flushed and small drops of sweat slipped down her temples.

He pulled back his hand and held her close, unable to stop a grin from spreading on his face. His shoulder stung, but happiness filled his every pore. Then Brienne noticed the bite marks on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl exclaimed, wiping the little drops of blood, wildly embarrassed.

"Can't say I'm surprised that you want to eat me. I'm too hard to resist." His grin widened. "I shall wear it as proof of my undeniable charm."

She pulled his hair playfully. "I'd better get myself to a hospital, or I might die from an indigestion."

His response was drawing her into a slow, romantic kiss. She seemed to have forgotten for a moment that she was still naked from the waist up, given that she still wasn’t reaching desperately for her shirt. Jaime pressed his forehead against hers, taking a moment to savor her as their heartbeats slowed down.

Once more she bit her lip and he waited for the next gesture. The blonde lifted her forehead slightly and focused her eyes on his. _Offensive stance. She'll take the step now_.

"I'd like to do that again sometime," she said shyly. "All new techniques need to be practiced until you get them just right..."

He laughed. "I'll make you practice every single day. Training is very, very important."

Brienne noticed the book sitting on the couch; a few of its pages were now dog-eared. She picked it up and shoved it against his chest. "I'm afraid if this is your concept of studying, you're gonna have a very bad time during the make-up exam. You _do_ know you need it to graduate, right?"

He got up then, holding her hand and dragging her with him to her bedroom. Only then did she seem to recall that she was half-naked and picked up her shirt hurriedly, holding it against her chest with a dim blush.  

"Well, you can have the honor of reading to me in bed. I'll fall asleep with a big smile on my face and a warm wench in my arms." It actually would help to be read to from an academic perspective, but he was strangely embarrassed to tell her he was dyslexic.

Catelyn Stark’s class was the only one he had to make up in order to graduate with Brienne in October, and he suspected the girl had used some of her influences with her favorite teacher to get him a second chance. So he _would_ have to study. Sometime. If he ever stopped behaving like a horny adolescent around her.

–––

Brienne couldn’t contain a smile as she headed back to the living room to turn off the lamp. She glanced wistfully at the now cold tea on the coffee table. "Tea and Economics," Jaime had said, but that was the least of what they ended up doing.

She was reading halfway through the fourth page of the book when she noticed Jaime's slow breathing beside her on the bed. He had a small smile on his lips and his left hand grasped hers loosely.

Brienne etched every line of his face in her memory as she caressed his forehead gently, wondering what was in his dreams. She felt more afraid than ever before in her life, when these feelings for him invaded her. It made her feel unarmored, inexperienced, vulnerable. It also made her feel so whole that she didn't even understand how it had taken them so long to get here. But she was glad they did, and she couldn’t deny she had enjoyed the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that every time you leave a comment, a puppy is born! ;)


	22. 339 - The dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so, so much to everyone who commented on the last updates, you've made me so happy! You really have no idea how much I appreciate it.
> 
> These two chapters are inseparable, thus their names: The dark (chapter 22) - The light (chapter 23).
> 
> This chapter's song is one of the most intense I've ever heard: How the Gods Kill by Danzig.

**339**  
(The dark)

The pain was blinding. Every other pain he'd ever felt was nothing, less than nothing, and every single nerve of his crushed right hand was sending agony to his brain. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw. His ears were ringing and he thought he might have gone deaf. He smelled smoke and blood and sweat. Panic seeped through him.

He could felt the cutting pressure of the seatbelt on his chest, as if he wore no clothes and his skin was raw. He opened his eyes for a second, wondering if he could still see anything at all. His head was all wrong, the street was at the top of his vision, the world was backwards and his sight was filled with crimson and the black of night. The blood rushed to his head from being upside down. His heart beat to the rhythm of his right hand’s throbbing, shocking him, immobilizing him.

The ringing wouldn’t stop, driving him mad with its steady sound. He closed his eyes tightly and asked his ears to shut down, asked his nose to ignore the coppery smell of his own blood. When he opened his mouth to scream again, nothing came out, or else he didn’t hear. The noise became louder and louder and all of a sudden had a melody to it, playing the song of death as the siren approached.

Jaime could feel the fingers of his right hand attempting to become a tight fist, and the pain became too unbearable. He let the darkness take him, wishing never to feel again.


	23. 461 - The light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again for future reference this chapter goes with Chapter 22, The dark. The song for this is Btsk by MS MR.

**461**  
(The light)

It felt like bliss. 

His lips pressed over hers again and again, providing her with an ample supply of all kinds of kisses. Slow ones, tender ones, shy ones, then much bolder ones, searching deep into her mouth, reaching her tongue and grazing it teasingly. He bit and sucked her lower lip and she arched her back underneath him and moaned. 

_This must be a dream_ , Brienne thought. _This must be a lie_. But then she breathed and smelled him, ran her hands through his soft, damp hair, felt his sweat on her neck as he kissed her shoulder. She wanted more. She needed more; it wasn't enough. The sensation of her naked breasts gliding against his chest made her tremble, and she could feel how hard he was as she closed her thighs around his hips and groaned his name with nothing short of urgency.

She didn't have to say anything more. When he looked at her face he read it in her eyes, the need for it. His caresses and touches and his fingers inside her weren't going to cut it anymore. Not today.

Brienne nodded and he smiled that wicked smile of his. His eyes were shining like emeralds. The light from the sunset that streamed through the window of her bedroom made his hair as bright as molten gold. He took his lips to her ear, nibbling and sucking and teasing her, sneaking his tongue behind her earlobe and taking her hardened nipple between his fingers. 

"Say it," he whispered. She shuddered and thought she was going to finish right then, but she managed to stop herself. 

"Jaime." He kissed her and she moaned into his mouth, then bit his lip aggressively and he pulled away. "I want it. Now."

He gave her a shrewd smile and moved to take off her last garment – her underwear. Brienne wondered how it was still even on. Most of their clothing had been left behind in a trail from the entrance; a shirt on a lamp, a pair of pants on the floor, her ridiculously small bra hanging on the doorknob, prompted by his idea of sneaking his fingers inside her as they rode the elevator up, exposed to anyone catching them.

He ran his hands softly over her thighs as he undressed her, then kissed her stomach and looked into her eyes. He put his left hand around her waist and pushed her lightly into a half-sitting, half-lying-down position against a pillow on the headboard.

Brienne spread her legs for him, a slight blush creeping its way under her freckles. The way her body was reacting was overwhelming. She felt like her skin was burning for his touch, her insides ached to be filled by him, to be made whole, while her heart was close to bursting. She looked into his dancing eyes and found warmth and pure, raw desire. His mouth and nose and eyes were perfect. His right arm was around her waist, ending in his stump. And it was perfect, too.

It was Jaime.

He kissed the edge of her lips and entered her ever so slowly. She heard him groan like never before, like he was carrying the weight of the world by holding back his peak. A wave of excitement ran through her as she felt his head slip inside. His movements were slow and gentle, his breath heavy and contained. He covered her lips with his and thrust fully into her in one fell swoop. She felt a tug inside, a sharp pull.

He fit her like he was made for her body, and she for his, like a puzzle. Two broken pieces in the puzzle that was their lives. It wasn't always like this. They had bent and given into each other and taken from each other. But now they fit and it was nothing short of bliss. 

Brienne heard a moan and realized it was herself, finding the pleasure in the pain, until that pain was gone. She wanted more, faster, she was so close, and Jaime understood it without a single word, increasing the rhythm of his moving hips. They were so tightly joined together that she wondered how he was able to plunge into her so fiercely. She couldn’t stop the gasps and pants coming from her mouth, feeling like she was burning inside out. Soon she was melting away from the world, from everything, only blackness surrounded her. She dug her nails deep into his back as the intensity of the feeling overtook her, needing to hold on to something so she wouldn’t slip away into oblivion.

"Jaime," she growled into his ear, and let go.

He had been waiting for her, who knew how long. He thrust into her one last time as deeply as possible and filled her with his warmth as her walls clutched around him with her release. Her toes tingled and her head was spinning. For seconds all they could hear was their own heavy breathing, until he pulled out and she felt a warm trickle running down her thigh. 

He kissed her lips tenderly, and then once more. Brienne gave him a look that he would remember forever with her blue, shining sapphires.

It was over. It was beginning.


	24. 480 - Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Pot City by The Seatbelts.

**480**  
(Laundry)

When Brienne headed back to her desk with a tower of papers in her arms, Margaery regarded her with a raised eyebrow. Hyle Hunt was laughing under his breath in his own desk on the opposite side of the room. Podrick, the young boy who worked as a messenger inside their building, was waiting for her with a clipboard in his hand.

“Ma’am… I mean, miss… could you sign here, please?” He handed her a pen shyly.

She put down the papers on the side table and only then was she able to see what was going on. There was a large bouquet of sunflowers sitting beside her laptop, with a card attached to it. _What in seven hells?_ was her first thought. _I hate flowers_.

She signed the receipt and turned to Hunt immediately. “Is this your idea of a joke?” She asked. That only managed to make him laugh harder.

Since Brienne’s life consisted of attracting every kind of misfortune known to man, she should not have been surprised when Hunt showed up at their office a few weeks earlier. The girl heard that he was also a journalism major from Highgarden University, and he was two years older than her. So he must have already graduated and she figured he worked at _some_ paper, but she felt ambushed when he got back from covering the semi-finals of the National Hockey League in Winterfell. 

As if that were not enough, Brienne’s dream of being a sports journalist was currently being sabotaged by having to work with him in some of the latest articles, ever since she got a full-time job offer from Olenna Tyrell, undoubtedly influenced by her granddaughter. The girl already had so much experience from shadowing her grandmother that she had received a high position in PR, dedicated to the most exclusive and lavish events in Kingsland and beyond.

Brienne was still puzzled by the situation and Hunt continued to look fairly amused when Margaery shook her head beside her and pointed towards the card, rolling her eyes with her arms crossed on her chest.

The blonde immediately turned a deep shade of pink.

–––

“Really, Jaime? Flowers?”

Brienne wandered around her apartment, gathering dirty clothes in a laundry basket. Every single cleaning product she owned was sprawled either on the floor or the kitchen counter. Once she had picked the last pair of socks from under her bed, she placed the basket on the floor beside the door and proceeded to wash a translucent green vase, the only one she owned and had never used.

“Well, you must be the first woman I’ve ever seen offended over receiving flowers,” Jaime replied, sitting on one of the kitchen stools.

“You’ve never given me flowers in my life.” The girl picked up the bouquet, taking off the wrapping. “There was a heart-shaped card stuck to it, Jaime. A heart! Are you for real?”

Jaime grinned at her. “I wanted to show you a clear sign of my affection, that’s all.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, cutting the flower stems to fit the vase. “You know, next time you have this need to mark your territory around me, you might want to show up in person and have a measuring contest with the man.”

Jaime shifted his eyes at her. “I’m not quite sure he has fully processed the fact that you are _off the market_ , wench. Or else he must have some sort of understanding issue.”

The blonde sighed, pointing the pair of sharp scissors straight at her companion. “There's nothing going on with Hunt. He's an ass.”

“I'm an ass! So if anything, that makes it worse.”

She placed the flowers in the vase and filled it with water over the sink. “Oh, boy,” she mumbled, giving up.

Once the flowers were decorating her coffee table, she went about her business, moving all the clothes from the basket into her laundry bag and searching for pennies in her drawers. Jaime hung around her, blocking her way, picking things up for her and opening her bedroom door with a mocking bow as she walked by.

When she was done filling the bag, she approached him. The girl sniffed his shirt, pulled it off him deftly and threw it in as well, without stopping her working rhythm. He went after her and threw his arm around her waist as she put her wallet and cell phone in a pocket of her cargo pants, firm in her resolve to ignore his cries for attention.

“Maybe you should use my washing machine. And my kitchen. And my shower…”

Her only reaction was to raise an eyebrow curiously.

He continued, “I mean, my place is bigger… You'd have room for your stuff… And you wouldn't have to go to the Laundromat. Plus it gets more sun in the morning.”

That was when she caught the meaning of what he was saying and started laughing. Jaime huffed. “What? You don't think I'm serious!”

Her laughter faded into an amused grin and she replied, “Are you actually asking me to move in with you just because you're jealous of Hunt? That's the biggest territorial pissing I've ever seen.”

He pulled out his keys from his pocket hurriedly, with a big frown on his face, then slid one out of the key ring and handed it to her. “There. I brought this with me. So you see, I was prepared to ask you that.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile and accepted the key from him. “I think we might want to have this conversation when I'm not running off to do laundry. But I _will_ take the key. Here.” She approached the side table next to the door and handed him a key from the last drawer. “That's my spare. I think you've earned it.”

“You'd really prefer to use the Laundromat?”

All she did was give him a brief kiss before leaving with the bag of laundry slumped over her shoulder and the latest sports magazine in her other hand.

–––

Jaime sank down on her couch and was about to call Tyrion when he noticed he had an unread message from Margaery. “Brienne hates flowers, you dope! That wasn’t what I had in mind!”

He texted back, “How was I supposed to know?” Then he remembered Brienne’s story about her time in Highgarden and felt like kicking himself for thinking it was such a clever idea. “Did it work, at least?” he added.

“Well, all he did was laugh. But I’m guessing he’s starting to get the message.”

Jaime smiled. “Thanks for the heads up,” he wrote finally.

Hyle Hunt had not been one of his concerns until he started hearing Margaery's stories about the time and effort he invested in teasing Brienne, which might be expected of someone who met her anew, but not from a guy who had received a black eye for his participation in that damned bet.

Then he found out she was having to work with him, given that they were both dedicated to the sports section of the paper. The fact had made him restless if for no other reason than instinctive pride. Restless and fidgety and strangely irritated.

He was not sure whether or not he had rushed into it, but moving in was a pragmatic decision at the very least. He had been spending so much time in her apartment that a quarter of the clothes she had taken to the Laundromat were his, he had about ten unwatched shows in his TiVo and he could not recall the last time he had gone for groceries.

Jaime shook off the thought and dialed his brother's number. “Little brother,” he greeted when Tyrion picked up. “Do you still have my spare key?”

“Of course I do. It's always helpful to have a place to crash when you're too drunk to get home.” He could almost hear him sneering on the other end.

Jaime paused. “Well, the thing is, I kind of need it back...”

“What happened? Did you lose yours?”

Jaime sighed. “I just gave it to Brienne.”

“Wow.” Tyrion said, taken aback. “That's a big step, Jaime. I think if you keep this up you might be mistaken for a grown-up one of these days. So what about your key?”

Jaime covered his face with his right elbow from embarrassment. “I gave her _the_ key, Tyrion. The _only_ key.”

Tyrion laughed until he was breathless. “You've got it bad, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to Jaime to pull a Ross Geller!


	25. 481 - Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more left to go after this! :) Song: Burning Down the House by The Cardigans & Tom Jones.

**481**  
(Boxes)

Moving in was hard.

Brienne sat for hours on her couch, alone, with a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other. Given how seldom she ever drank, the wine was a give-away of her current state of mind.

She stared up at the ceiling, at the lamp she had bought and set up by herself. Then she glanced over at the kitchen, thinking of her pots, her pans, her blender, her old coffeepot that she had taken from Tarth. She thought of her father, of his loneliness after her mother’s death, welcoming women intermittently to their home, some for months, others for weeks. Once or twice just for a night, when he thought her asleep.

A home. What was a home to her, anyway? Tarth was her home until she went to Highgarden for high school. Then it was her and Sansa’s dorm, then this tiny apartment. Home wasn’t a place. It was her independence. For years she had lived such a lonely existence that she had to learn to be her own person, learn responsibility at a very young age. Beyond cooking and cleaning and budgeting and buying groceries, it had meant learning to enjoy her solitude, mainly because she didn’t have a choice.

Letting Jaime into her life had meant giving in, just like he had. It had been a slow learning process, filled with new challenges every day, but also filled with more rewards than she could imagine. Just remembering a kiss or a laugh or the time he had cooked breakfast for her when she stayed over for the first time made her smile. Every new level of intimacy had left an imprint in her mind, little pieces of her were pulled apart as he made her his, and she let him take them.

She glanced at her bedroom door, recalling the first time he slept over, the first time they were together, all the hours of touching and kissing and discovering each other, sometimes as shyly as if they were teenagers and other times with the boldness of a couple with years under their belts. He had loved her in the sunset, in the moonlight, in the darkness, at the break of dawn.

Finally, she walked to her bathroom and stared at the shower, feeling like she had lived a thousand lives while with him.

It was weeks ago, but the memories felt like the kind that would stay with her until she grew old. She had been taking a warm shower, relaxing her muscles after an intense run, when he had snuck up behind her and unintentionally scared her to death while trying to be romantic. She had slipped from the startle and in her haste to grab the first thing she could, she had brought him down to the floor with her as she fell, pulling the shower curtain out of its rings in a flash of movement.

She had barely even registered what happened when laughter poured out of her like a stream, contracting her abdomen and leaving her breathless. His instant look of concern disappeared at her reaction and he had smiled, watching her curiously as she chuckled like nothing else in the world mattered, naked as the day she was born and covered in soap.

Then he had given her that look, the look of a man forever lost, eyes brimming with longing, and told her he loved her.

Remembering it did not fail to soften her resolve. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. _These are just things. Rooms, doors, a bed, just things. It’s memories I want_. Memories with Jaime.

She placed the glass of wine on the coffee table, and before she knew it she had pulled her old cardboard boxes from under the bed. She was not even sure why she had kept them when she moved in, but there they were, and for the first time she felt like she wasn’t just moving toward a new place, but toward an entirely new life.

It was his territory; she was going straight into the lion’s den and with a smile, no less. To his fancy neighborhood and his fancy house and his fancy life. But she needed to look past that, because she had realized that many of their first steps had been given by him due to her difficulty to relinquish control. He had been the one to kiss her, the one to start showing his affection in public and the one to even mention being a couple. And now he had been the one to ask her to move in.

She had to be the one to give now, so she did.

Brienne called him and he picked up immediately, as if he had been waiting for her call. _He was never very patient_. “Yes,” was all she told him.

Half an hour later he had arrived at her place with a bottle of champagne, and the first thing he had done was undress her and take her without restraint between two of her already packed boxes on the floor.

It had taken them the entire weekend to get everything out of her apartment, categorizing all the things that she would give away to charity and others that would go straight to the trash. The next day she had closed the door with an air of finality and given the keys to the super and got in her car without looking back, but actually _moving in_ was much, much harder.

Brienne tried to think of it as a step-by-step thing, starting by parking her car in his driveway now that it was empty. Once she had, she stood there and stared at it, picturing herself getting home from work every day. _Home from work_. It felt like such an adult thing to ponder.

Then she pulled the last two boxes out of her car, containing her day-to-day things and her most valued books, the fundamental pieces of her concept of a home. Jaime had watched her and waited patiently until she was ready.

She opened the door with her key, feeling like an alien landing on a foreign planet.

Her mind wandered to the Lannisters, their reputation and lifestyle. The roof over her head was a direct product of Tywin's fortune, the same man who had made it clear in her very presence that he did not approve of the relationship. 

Yet here she was. She felt like a guest, like the things Jaime was offering were borrowed, even though she knew that was not his intention. All he was doing was opening his doors and letting her decide if and when she would walk through them. She wondered how he felt, if he had realized the weight of what he had asked too late to take it back. In spite of it all, of every doubt and insecurity, she walked in.

Jaime’s idea of a welcome to her new home was fucking her in every room in the course of an afternoon.

She had barely taken two steps inside when he shut the door and pulled her into the living room. His usual sprawl of things on the coffee table was gone, so she dropped the boxes on it.

“This is our living room. That’s our TV.” He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her into the couch. “This is our couch, let me show you how it works.” He hadn’t even bothered to take off her clothes that time.

Then he had led her to the kitchen. “Here, in our fridge, is our can of whipped cream.” That one included taking off clothes, but surprisingly enough, not all of them. It had also led to an interlude in the dining room before heading back to the kitchen table.

After a respectable one-hour break eating whatever crossed their paths, he steered her to the bedroom. The top floor was the most impressive part of the house. It was entirely occupied by his bathroom and bedroom, he had a walk-in closet and a bathtub where even her impossibly tall frame would fit comfortably. His bed could have fit four.

When they were done breaking in _their_ bed and she was finally drifting into an exhausted sleep, he lifted his head off the pillow without warning and whispered, “The laundry room.” He grinned. “Our laundry room.”

By the time she had regained enough consciousness to issue a complaint, they were halfway down the stairs. So her night had ended with their most impressive exploit so far, as she sat on a very jumpy washing machine where a random group of clothes had been thrown in so as not to ruin it, while he thrust into her with the fervor of a man who had come straight from a battlefield. It had left her so exhilarated that she had demanded a reprise right on top of a pile of dirty laundry.

The epilogue of the night was ordering a pizza at 2 AM and eating it buck-naked on the couch while watching a documentary on the migration habits of the emperor penguins from the Lands of Always Winter.

The next morning, when she woke up with her head on his chest, still on the couch, she had found it hard not to feel at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will be up on Monday! You can take the weekend to catch up if you like. :)


	26. 500 - Five-hundred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is Sunny Afternoon by The Kinks. Though the lyrics have little to do with it, I could not stop listening to the music in my head while writing this. More notes after this! Enjoy. :)

**500**  
(Five-hundred)

When Jaime appeared in the kitchen at seven in the morning, Brienne was cooking an elaborate breakfast in the middle of a caffeine high. She had pulled a long overnight shift the previous day while covering a tennis match at the Kingsland Country Club, so they had allowed her to take the day off. Even though she was the one who had not slept, it was Jaime’s face that looked worn, with dark rings under his eyes. He greeted her with a brief peck on the lips.

“How was the match?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“A bit boring,” she replied. “Pairing Jeyne Westerling against Roslin Frey is absurd. The Frey girl was born with a racquet in her hand.” She served the scrambled eggs on a plate and set them in front of him, next to her perfectly fluffy pancakes. “But I did enjoy the company. Sansa’s brother Robb is dating Roslin, so I hung out with the three of them and managed to land an interview with her this weekend.”

“That’s nice,” he said absently, sitting down and picking at the food on his plate as he checked the messages on his phone.

“Did you stay up late?” she asked him, joining him on the table. “You look tired.”

“Yeah,” was his only response. Two bites into the pancakes his phone vibrated and he stood up from the table, wiping his hands. “I gotta run an errand.”

She hadn’t even opened her mouth to reply when he was running upstairs to change. The girl tried to ignore his attitude and most especially his disregard for the meal she had prepared for him. Just like she had started to look the other way at his monosyllabic answers and his visits to Tyrion until the dead of night.

Minutes later he came down and stopped on his way to the door. “Tyrion gave us some tickets for the carnival today because he can’t make it. Do you want to go?”

She blinked in confusion and nodded.

“I’ll be back later.”

He shut the door behind him.

–––

It was a traveling carnival from the Free Cities that was staying in the outskirts of Kingsland for two weeks, stationed between the Rosby Road and Blackwater Bay, close to the Iron Gate. By the time they arrived it was the middle of the afternoon, so the place was packed. They had not done much yet, other than wander around looking at the rides. Jaime had bought her some cotton candy and then they had entered a tent where an impressive group of trapeze artists were performing. Later they had introduced some sets with fire-eaters and trained shadowcats, all of which had seemed quite unsafe to the girl.

Other than a few comments here and there, Jaime had barely opened his mouth to talk to her. She had just let him be, but it was starting to wear her out, especially without any other company to distract her. There was an extreme sense of contradiction in being at a place dedicated to pure, unadulterated fun while your companion was completely absent-minded.

When they walked out of the tent, Brienne was thankful for the fresh air. The cotton candy Jaime had bought her had not agreed with her, her stomach was upset and the heat from the enclosed space was not helping her condition. She felt nauseated and wanted to sit for a few minutes, but there were no tables or restaurants nearby.

Jaime pulled her hand, steering her toward a game of bottle toss. She hoped he would finally start enjoying himself, playing like a boy without any worries. It might take him out of his introspective attitude. She would have liked the carnival better as well if it hadn’t been for her upset stomach.

While he paid the man and waited for his turn, Brienne looked around them. There were many families with small children, siblings fighting for ice cream cones or prize toys, and a few toddlers crying with chocolate-stained faces. She stared up at the Ferris wheel, the way it spun and spun. Most of its occupants were young couples. It made her think of how relationships were so much like its passenger cars, going up and down and up again, and wondered if it ever stopped, if there was ever a point of staying still in the middle, staring at the view, forever stable.

She glanced at Jaime, who was looking elsewhere. Her eyes ran down his neck, to his shoulders, stopping at a bruise she had given him half a week earlier when they had decided to spar at their new gym a few blocks from the house. Then she looked up at his golden mane, his eyes and his cheeks, slightly shadowed by a scruff of a beard.

The nature of relationships puzzled her. Sometimes he was just a presence beside her, an energy that stayed close by while she went on living her life. Other times he enraged her, those moments when for a second she could glimpse the selfish, arrogant man she had first met. But most of all, there were little moments when her heart would stop upon seeing him. He may be passing by, or putting on his shirt with his one hand, or snoring softly when he fell asleep watching TV on the couch. Then she would close her eyes and her world would become something else entirely, a world made up by him and his existence and everything he gave her, where life would feel like nothing more than a scenario for them to simultaneously exist together.

Brienne was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of the last two bottles falling with his last shot, quite a testament to his efforts of gaining control of his left hand. He gave her a satisfied smile as he picked a stuffed bear from the prize tower and handed it to her. It was realistic and different to others she had seen, drifting from the usual teddy bears – it was down on all fours and the features on its face were fierce instead of tender.

She stifled a laugh. “A bear?”

Jaime nodded with a grin on his face. “It’s all angry and serious, like you. See?”

She couldn’t reject the present when he regarded her with that expression, so she had simply stuck out her tongue at him. She could only wonder what people would think, watching a huge woman walking by with a big stuffed bear under her arm.

They took a walk around the rides as they waited for her to feel better. The minutes passed and she noticed Jaime growing restless, like something specific was bothering him. She had noticed he was pensive for days when he thought she wasn’t looking, but she hadn’t been sure whether it was okay to ask him about it. Brienne knew he must be worried about having no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had escaped his father’s resolve to have him run Lannister & Co. time and again, only to be left without any other choices in sight after losing his hand. His Business Administration diploma was gathering dust and Tywin was still in need of an heir.

Once she was feeling better they agreed to ride the Ferris wheel she had been staring at earlier. When they were on it Jaime grew even more concerned, if anything. He fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket and his gaze was firmly set out in the bay. A show of acrobats was starting a few feet from that ride, and the carnival music boomed loudly in their ears. She took a hold of his hand, his very sweaty hand, startling him. His green eyes focused on her, plastered with uncertainty. Her heart started beating faster before she even knew why, and her stomach felt hollow, invaded by a bad feeling about what was on his mind.

Had these past few days living together worn him out? Was he rethinking things?

The ride stopped once they were in the middle of the cycle. The girl felt a steady stream of dread clouding her mind, going back to every strange thing that she had spotted and ignored. His mysterious phone calls in the kitchen late at night. Days when he would rise early in the morning and she would find him drinking a cup of coffee in the patio, gazing at the waking day, lost in space. Little moments when she would be talking to him enthusiastically about the last book she had read and he had sat and nodded without really listening. The fact that they had not been together during the last few days, even though since she moved in they had barely stopped touching and crawling on top of one another at all possible times.

 _He’s breaking up with me_.

She took a deep breath, let go of his hand and looked away. She couldn’t even tell if it was a fair assumption. This was her only relationship, she had no idea what the signs of a breakup were, but they were lining up in her mind and making her feel like she was falling straight into a void. The music became louder and the crowd burst out laughing at a funny skit in the show, then started clapping as the next group of acrobats rushed into the stage. Her stomach turned and she caught a strong air of fish coming from the bay, making her feel light-headed as it mixed with the humid heat that made little drops of sweat run down her back.

A line from one of Margaery’s stories popped into her mind before she could stop it. “Men just grow bored after the game is over,” she had told Daenerys as they discussed Daario, the rocker she had been dating for weeks, sitting on a pub. “It’s the hunt that thrills them.” The blue-haired man had decided he was bored of attending school, he wanted to pursue his dreams, he wanted to tour. So he had packed up and left for Tyrosh without looking back. Daenerys had dried her bitter tears at that. Sansa and Brienne had remained quiet, and all four girls had gone home with a cloud of sadness and pessimism hanging over them.

Was he with her then? Was she the one he talked to, the one in his late-night visits? _He will always hunt her_. A sense of helplessness invaded her. _He will never catch her, so it won’t stop being a hunt_. _Is that what men want?_

She felt her eyes grow watery, a knot clutching her throat, but she could not allow the tears to fall. Not here, not with him. Her mind sought peace in other images, she thought of Olenna giving her a stiff approving nod at her latest article, her season tickets to cover the Major League Baseball, a dream come true, even if it involved Hunt. Though she managed to stop her tears, her heart was still assaulting her chest with a fury. Anger started to rise in her.

 _Say it, just say it already, get it over with_.

The music reached its highest point, a cacophony of trumpets, drums, accordions, organs and the melody from their own ride was drilling into her brain. He finally turned to look at her and pointed at the bear. The stupid bear. She should be throwing it at his face, but instead she did not move an inch. Her gaze was frozen.

He turned the bear over, revealing a Velcro compartment underneath. _What is the matter with this guy? Is he trying to make fun of me?_ She wondered if the bear danced or jiggled or something of the sort.

Her breath caught in her throat when she opened it.

Brienne’s heart fluttered uncontrollably when she found a small box inside. She pulled it out and kept it in her closed hand, feeling the weight of it, looking at him with a stare full of questions. Then she realized he had said something, but the sound was incomprehensible amongst the noises around them.

She tilted her head slightly, as if asking him to repeat whatever he said.

The ride started and once more they were descending.

"Marry me," he shouted. The music had faded a second before he spoke when they were reaching the bottom, so this time she heard it loud and clear, as did a few of the employees who were leaning against the controls having a smoke, staring curiously as their car passed by.

Brienne was in shock. She opened her hand and then the velvet box, wondering if she was having some sort of vivid fantasy. It was an oval shaped sapphire ring of white gold with pave set diamonds on the sides.

The sunlight reflected off it like a shining star. Even without any basic knowledge of such ladylike matters, the kind that Sansa had, she could tell the tiny object in her hand was probably worth more than all her possessions put together.

It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had seen in her life, and also the exact opposite of her – elegant, graceful, priceless. She paled in comparison, contrasting with its splendor; she felt unworthy of such, confused, blindsided. Her mind clamped shut at the thought and her nature steered her toward the theoretical, the reasonable. How he had done it, the bear, how she had been holding it all along. How far his plan went, the ball throwing, the carnival. The questions soothed her, she could dwell in them, obtain a logical answer. She could move forward.

But she could hardly string a sentence together. All that managed to come out of her mouth was, "How did you…? What…"

–––

Jaime grinned. "I slipped the guy a dragon. I had to be creative, else you might run off from the sight of the box." He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He knew that in spite of the size of his smile, his hand was shaking.

He thought this moment would be a good candidate for one of her face-warming blushes, but it was nowhere near it. The girl was pale and not a single word was coming out of her mouth. He imagined it would take her by surprise and he would have to give her some time to catch up, but he was starting to grow impatient.

The uncertainty threatened to devour him. He had run this over in his head again and again. He had run it over with Tyrion, who had tried to make him understand the importance of what he was planning, telling him that one of his most critical flaws was being too impulsive.

He had disregarded it all, and come back to Tyrion as many times as it took for his brother to jump on the bandwagon. He had helped him have the ring made and helped him think of a plan. He had been there while Jaime vented about the past, while he buried the ghost of his cousin, a permanent shadow that clung to him, whose mission was to plant the seed of doubt at every turn.

Tyrion had eventually managed to lower his guard long enough to tell him that he wished him luck, because he was confident that if anyone would make him happy, it would be Brienne, but only if he could live up to the challenge of a married life.

"Well, are we going to sit here all afternoon? Or are you going to say yes already?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

She moved her mouth a couple of times, like a fish underwater, but no sound escaped her lips. She stared once more at the ring in her hand. Her eyes were shivering, but he couldn't tell if she was excited or horrified.

_Is this going to go terribly wrong?_

He recalled so many times he had asked Cersei to run away with him, to leave everything behind and be together. To marry him without giving a fuck about what people thought, to start a life. It felt so far away. Those dreams had belonged to a boy, a boy infatuated with a beauty so overwhelming it threatened to destroy him, a boy with a right hand made for fighting, a boy wishing to lead a life of glory.

But today he was a man. He was a man who had loved and lost, who had been defeated, broken and left behind, who had been alienated by his father and despised by his peers, who had taken a life to save many more and been hated for it. A man with a future as blank as the pages of a notebook, who had to decide what he would write in them. Though he did not yet know where he wanted to go, he was sure she was the one he wanted on the road.

She closed her mouth, took a deep breath and looked straight at his face. To his surprise, the first words that came out were, "What about your father?"

"Well, wench, he's single, but I think he might be too old for you."

It was then that she finally blushed and looked away. "I only meant that…"

“Look at me.” He closed the distance between them and held her chin, forcing her to gaze into his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Forget about everything else. What do _you_ want?"

Brienne hesitated for a few seconds, like she was a computer processing all the new data, making calculations, struggling to land on a result. She pulled the ring out of the box, keeping a tight grip on it between her fingers, as if she had never carried anything heavier before. She finally told him in a reluctant voice, "Do you really mean this…? I thought…” Her breath caught in her throat. “Why…?"

Instead of replying, he pulled her waist toward him and engulfed her in a kiss tainted with the undertones of an impending storm, marked by the rise and fall of emotions, his tongue treading in her mouth as if sinking in a ship, dipping his head underneath the surface of her deepest, most secluded self. He tasted her apprehension, her fear and at the very end her submission, capitulating in the face of his unrelenting resolve.

It was only then that he noticed the ride had finally stopped.

"For your trouble," he whispered when they broke, and smiled his wicked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I am so thankful to everyone who left their kudos and their comments, your feedback helped so much because it led me to make so many revisions, extensions and even add a few new chapters. You made writing this so worth it!
> 
> Lastly I wanted to let you all know (for those who are crazy enough to remain interested after 30,000+ words) that I’m making this a two-part series. I feel like there’s still plenty of road ahead for these two and many book parallels left to exploit. So I’ve given you an ending that could be interpreted as closed or open, in case you don’t want to read the next part. Just like in this case the timeline is delicate so I will have to finish it before posting (I’m 25,000 words in, so the wait shouldn’t be long). So to those who’ll stay on the bus, soon I’ll be bringing you (500) Days of Jaime! Now with a whole pound of smut, a tablespoon of The Hangover and a large dose of Lannisters in the mix. :)


End file.
